


The Weight of Legacy

by conn8d



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 86,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1514819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conn8d/pseuds/conn8d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legacy is peculiar thing. A blade with two edges. A coin with two very different sides.  It can be a burden and a boon. It can cultivate strength and sacrifice. It can bring joy and jealousy. Legacy has brought marriages together and torn others apart. Some rise to the inheritance while others falter. For members of the Avery family, the weight of legacy is real. Spoilers for s10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have no idea what this is. A character study on legacy? Sort of. Or rather an exploration into the role of legacy within a family context. It's going to focus on Jackson and April and their married life following s10, but as you can see from this opening chapter, it's going to feature other members of the family as well (including versions of 4 familiar kiddos for those of you who've read my familyverse AUs). Basically we'll look at the growing Avery family and their individual relationships with the Harper Avery Foundation through the years. I know it sounds weird and it's hard to explain, but I think it'll be fun. Give it a try and see if you like it. Let me know what you think and thank you very much for reading.  
**

* * *

_Sly as a Fox_

Catherine's first Harper Avery Foundation board meeting wasn't, strictly speaking, board approved.

It wasn't like her father in law, or any of the other 10 members of the board, expected her to show up along side her new husband. It wasn't like they invited her. But then again, none of the board members knew Catherine well at all. Neither did Harper.

She waited for no invitations.

The gasp and the suspicious gazes that swept across the small group did not escape Catherine's notice when she and Julian arrived. The board was a study of white men dressed in dingy business suits, with the occasional bad comb over to add some variety. The Harper Avery Foundation for the Advancement of Cardiothoracic Surgery, Treatment, and Technology (who knew which of the fools came up with that mouthful of a name), was known for groundbreaking science, not for barrier breaking membership decisions.

It was clear in those first few moments that Catherine's presence, (whether because she was young or because she was black, and certainly because she was a woman) was unwelcome.

Julian squeezed her hand as Catherine made eye contact with each and every board member. Challenging every single one. So what, if they didn't want her to be there? She was an Avery now and a capable surgical fellow in her own right.

She had  _every_  right to be here.

Granted, Catherine sometimes still thought of herself as a Fox. It was still kind of hard to process that she was now an  _Avery_ , even after all the papers had been signed, ceremonies and parties held, and family heirlooms passed on. She was still getting used to the fact that as an ambitious student the surgeon whose rising career she'd poured over, the man who's picture she'd seen on the cover of Time magazine, Dr. Harper Avery who'd successfully operated on a still beating heart,  _that_  Dr. Harper Avery was now her father in law. In that first board meeting, she was still getting accustomed to the idea she was a member of one of the most prominent families on the east coast.

Not to say that Catherine felt she didn't belong. Quite the contrary, in fact. She  _knew_  she deserved the best.

As she looked around the board room, her gaze lingered on Harper, who showed less surprise than the rest of the board. He sat at the head of the table, leaning back at his chair with a solemn expression. Watching her every move.

Initially, both of Julian's parents had been surprised when their son returned home from his first year of medical school at Columbia with long hair, plaid flared jeans, and a sassy afro rocking fiancee in tow. Sidney Poitier might have come to dinner ten years ago, but he (and the concept he represented) wasn't exactly a regular visitor in families like the Avery's. They hadn't been exactly unhappy for the young couple, and helped plan and payed for a lavish wedding. Yet, the shock still hadn't quite worn out.

The Avery family was high class. For them, this kind of marriage was definitely unusual.

Catherine didn't know her father in law well, but his wife Elizabeth had already initiated her into the family with keepsake Limoges and a big ring. Harper would likely be a tougher nut to crack, but it was no matter.

Catherine liked a challenge.

After sitting down, Julian had glared at his father, daring Harper or any of the rest to say a word.

"It's a family foundation, right Father?" he said coolly. "My wife is my family."

The differences between Julian and Harper were numerous. Father and son were like night and day. Where Harper was charismatic and outgoing, Julian was thoughtful and clammed up in big crowds. Where Harper was methodical and organized, Julian was impulsive and spontaneous. Where Harper was calculating and ambitious, Julian was full of fey and idealism.

The one thing Catherine had observed the men to have in common was their strong belief that it was possible for medicine to change the world. She shared the same burning passion.

And much as she admired her medical titan father in law, Harper was no Julian. In time, Catherine would learn this the hard way.

But when she'd strode confidently into that first board meeting, Catherine was still deeply in love with the kind and gentle man she'd met in the medical library. His piercing blue eyes, blonde hair and sweet smile were hard enough to resist. He was captivating for other reasons too. Julian was a fine man, but when you combined that with the genius and optimism he possessed in spades, and with he way he treated her like a queen, Catherine was head over heals. All the way to the alter.

At the time of that first board meeting, Catherine knew nothing of his temper. His selfishness. His irresponsibility.

Julian Avery had not yet broken her heart.

Harper took in his son's words carefully but without comment. Accepting her presence by default, Catherine surmised. He wasn't telling her to leave, but he wasn't asking her to stay, either.

Fair enough.

The other board members were less non committal. One particularly bold bald man, who Catherine knew from research was named Cartwright, had rolled his eyes.

"Julian, this is a closed board meeting. We will be discussing long term strategic planning for the foundation. I'm sure your wife has other things to worry about..."

"On the contrary," Catherine replied with a small smirk. "In fact, I can't think of another place I'd rather be."

It was clear that with the success and fame of Harper Avery, his newly founded non profit had many interested donors and with them, the potential to be unparalleled in both power and scope. Bigger than Pew. Bigger than Nobel.

The Harper Avery Foundation had the potential to become the leading medical research foundation in the country, if not the world.

 _That_  was her future and Catherine had known it.

"It's a medical foundation, Ma'am," a different board member took a different approach, trying to imply that the concepts of the organization were beyond her. He obviously had not done his research on her quite so well as she'd done on him.

"I am a certified and practicing physician."

Cartwright piped up again, (she was just about at her limit with this fool) scoffing, "A woman urologist."

Beside her, Catherine felt her husband tense up. He leaned forward clearly ready to lay into the older man, but Catherine calmly rested her hand on Julian's arm. This was the 20th century after all. She didn't need him to stand up for her. She was more than capable of doing that by herself.

"Why of course, honey," Catherine replied, grinning politely and raising one eyebrow. "I find that many men are  _very_  comfortable allowing a woman handle that part of their anatomy. "

Harper coughed uncomfortably at the comment while most of the other board members looked scandalized. But Catherine didn't care. That's what had gotten their attention. She'd learned very quickly that these were the kind of people you couldn't just expect to simply listen to what you had to say.

Catherine had to  _make_ them pay attention to her.

Her words seemed to settle the score and the meeting started in earnest. That first one wasn't terribly productive, but Catherine made a point of attending each and every scheduled meeting of the board in the ensuing years. Eventually she attended far more meetings than her husband.

And Harper knew it.

The Harper Avery Foundation started with a focus on the heart. Cardiothoracic surgery and the promotion of heart health. Which made sense, because the legendary Harper Avery had redefined what it meant to be a cardiothoracic surgeon. He'd changed what it meant to perform heart surgery.

But he was not the only surgeon of that ilk. There were ground breaking surgeons in many specialties. And Harper was not the only one of them who'd managed to secure donors and to create a foundation.

There were Neurological Foundations, Gynecological Foundations, Pediatric Foundations, and most other things one could imagine. Probably  _more_  things than one could imagine. And that of course, meant more competition for donors, projects, and research.

However, Catherine could see that while Harper had peers of similar skill and with similar ambitions, he was  _Harper Avery_. He was more famous. He'd been on television. He'd been magazine covers. He'd met presidents.

Harper was bigger, and known to a wider audience, than any of the best surgeons in other fields, and Catherine thought that his foundation had the potential to be bigger as well. Because of his notoriety, Catherine thought they had the potential to secure not only typical donors who  _always_  supported medical causes, but completely unknown ones as well. Harper's fame could help them recruit new donors, which would eventually eliminate their need to compete for existing ones.

And then, once they could secure and maintain a dedicated donor base, all the foundation need do was soundly invest their income, so that it could survive and thrive in leaner times. Spend wisely. They could position themselves as an essential part of the medical field by establishing grant programs, research initiatives, and awards. They could make themselves so integral in fact, that it would seem almost impossible to imagine a medical world  _without_  a Harper Avery Foundation. If the charity took the right steps, of course.

But Catherine had a plan.

That fact didn't escape her father in law's notice either. Once, Harper had pulled her aside after a boisterous board meeting. Catherine had been particularly vocal with the other board members, continually pushing them to expand the scope of the projects the Harper Avery Foundation supported. She'd been not only vocal, but had tended toward using some colorful language.

Pregnancy hormones, it turned out, made Catherine rather punchy.

Harper grabbed her arm gently as the other board members exited the room, "Catherine-"

She held up her hand, "Harper, I am fine, I don't need you help me stand up."

Catherine glanced down at the large bulging belly of her 8th month with child and swallowed hard. It wouldn't be easy, but damned if she wasn't capable of doing it herself. She just needed a moment.

Smirking, her father in law carefully hoisted her to her feet, "Perhaps you don't need my help, but I might need a pretext to talk to you..."

The piqued her curiosity, "Oh?"

"Where's Julian this month?"

"Uh, well, you know he's got a few new projects he's working on..." Catherine explained patting her belly absentmindedly.

Granted, she wasn't exactly pleased about her husband's decision to skip the day's board meeting in favor of research that didn't even fit the scope of his cardio fellowship. They'd had words about it the previous night as a matter of fact.

Julian felt like he was being pulled in too many directions. Catherine felt like he lacked the ability to focus and organize. She was pulled in many directions as well. But Catherine knew how to handle it, and she thought it was high time Julian learned. It wasn't like any of this was going to become any easier once the baby came.

The discussion remained unresolved.

"He  _should_  be concentrating more on his fellowship," Harper mumbled irritably. Catherine couldn't say she disagreed.

"Do you know if he has been performing well, I heard there was an open heart-"

Catherine headed toward the door irritably, "Did you want to talk to me in order to spy on your son, or was there something else?"

She hated beating around the bush.

Harper's face became more serious, "Something else, actually. About this foundation...and what it could be. What I  _want_  it to be. I wanted to tell you that I appreciate your motions to expand our scope."

Catherine raised an eyebrow. She had always hoped the man understood why she made so many suggestions. She was happy to find that Harper definitely did.

He paused and then continued carefully, "That's the future. That is the direction I want us to take. You understand my vision. Better than all of them. Better than Julian."

Heartened by his admission, Catherine didn't break eye contact, "Well, then I suppose it's a very good thing I married him."

Harper chuckled, "I suppose."

Little did they know how true that would turn out to be.

* * *

Jackson arrived and within three years, Julian had departed.

Off to God knows where with little more than a note, a letter from his lawyer, and a half-assed apology. Catherine was livid. Catherine was devastated. Catherine was scared. If she didn't love him so much, she would have felt like killing the man. Actually, love or not, she kind of did feel like killing him. Or, at the very least, she wanted to maim his sorry butt.

Julian had left her.  _Julian_ had left  _her._

He'd left her alone with a baby. He'd left his own son. Catherine knew she could never forgive him for that. Leaving her was one thing, but leaving behind their son was entirely unforgivable. In so doing, Julian had burned his bridge with her.

And for what? From Catherine's perspective it just seemed like he was throwing his life away.

 _Their_  life.

But she also scared because so much of her life was now wrapped up in the world of Avery. She finally thought of herself as an Avery. She was becoming established and respected in her field and at the Brigham as an Avery. Her ideas were finally beginning to get traction in the Harper Avery Foundation.

Her beautiful, perfect, ray of sunshine baby boy was an Avery.

The world of Avery was Catherine's world. Would she lose all of that without Julian? Before getting married she'd signed papers to that effect. At least financially. She was ambitious, and the thought of losing everything she'd worked so hard for these past few years was terrifying.

Catherine despised being afraid.

"Da?" Jackie inquired happily when a knock came at the apartment door.

"I don't know, baby. Let's go see who it is."

Somewhat irrationally feeling her own hope rise, Catherine had taken her toddler's hand and walked with him to see who was knocking. She'd feigned ignorance, and pretended that everything was alright. She deflected the boy's questions about Julian and asked that his nanny do the same thing. Catherine wanted to spare Jackson the rejection and fear she felt.

She'd known that it couldn't possibly be her husband knocking at the door. Why would Julian Avery need to knock on the door of his own home?

That night Catherine's attempts at staying strong faltered somewhat. Because opening the door revealed her in laws, and the sight of Harper and Elizabeth looking at her with such pity and shame was enough to undo Catherine momentarily.

Tears sprung to her eyes, and Catherine had felt Elizabeth's arms envelope her immediately. Harper cleared his throat stiffly and patted the top of Jackson's head. The toddler seemed a bit disappointed, but when his grandmother turned to hug him, a wide grin spread across his gorgeous little face.

Jackie was a real looker. Like father like son.

And somehow, seeing her in laws made Catherine feel slightly less afraid. They were just as pissed off at their son as she was.

"It's disgraceful," Harper had grumbled, shaking his head vigorously, and shoving his hands into his pockets. "The things people will say when they hear about this. Avery's just don't simply walk out on their responsibilities! Whatever problems might exist in the marriage. Whatever pressures he might have felt he was facing. I can't believe Julian would be this cowardly..."

"Well, I have been pushing him to get more involved with the foundation, Harper. And asking him to spend more time bonding with Jackson. And pushing him to publish more. Maybe I was too hard on Julian."

Even years later, Catherine didn't quite know why she'd felt compelled to stand up for the man she'd simultaneously wanted to throttle. She supposed it was because of love. Maybe a part of her would always love Julian Avery.

But Harper had shut her down rather quickly, holding up one hand and firmly shaking his head, "No. Those are not things that Julian should run away from. Those are not things that are too hard. They cannot be skirted away from. Those are things that he is, or rather things should be. He is an Avery. He is a father. He is a physician. I expected greatness and he failed. It's cowardly. He's the one that left, Catherine. Not you."

The heat and force with which her father in law uttered these words had surprised Catherine too, even though she was also furious at Julian. It was hard to imagine how it must feel as a parent to be  _that_  mad at your own child. She couldn't imagine speaking that way about her dear Jackie.

Catherine couldn't imagine it at the time, at least.

But watching the other man speak, hearing the conviction with which he laid out the responsibilities of being an Avery, Catherine had found herself feeling almost sympathetic towards her runaway husband, if only for a split second. Perhaps the responsibilities themselves were not too much to bear. But the way they were implemented by the severe and detached man in front of her couldn't have been easy to grow up with. And, unfortunately, Julian wasn't exactly the strongest person...

Even though Catherine believed Harper to be right in expecting greatness from his son, it was clear that his methods had not succeeded in getting the man the results he wanted with Julian. She vowed then and there: she would not make the same mistakes with Jackie.

Elizabeth spoke sadly as she looked at her grandchild, "I didn't raise my son to abandon his family."

Catherine was determined to make sure that things would be different for Jackson. She'd make sure he would grow up to be a stronger man than his father. In time Catherine would learn that little boy's didn't always grow to be the men you raised them to be. And that could cut both ways. They could grow to be better and worse.

"We'll manage," Catherine had sighed, lifting Jackson to her hip.

Kissing the top of her grandson's head, Elizabeth took hold of her daughter in law's free hand, "Yes.  _We'll_  make sure that you do. Jackie is still our grandson, and you will always be his mother. As far as I am concerned, that means you are  _always_  a part of my family, not matter what happens with Julian."

Somehow Catherine and Jackson had managed to be okay. The split had been a bit of a scandal among the upper crust of the medical community, but that soon passed and was replaced by another.

Harper had nominated her for a full position on the board of the foundation. He'd made sure she was offered an attending position at the Brigham as soon as she'd completed her fellowship. Elizabeth treated Catherine as though nothing had changed, even after the divorce was all signed and finalized. Julian agreed to pay both spousal and child support, which combined with Catherine's position actually made the transition go smoothly. She worked in the same hospital, was part of the same board, and lived in the same apartment with Jackson in downtown Boston.

Almost like nothing had changed.

Which, Catherine eventually realized, was a sad commentary on the state of her and Julian's life together really. Because you really aught to notice a huge difference in your life (aside from resentment) when your husband abandons you and your son.

But with her former in laws support, Catherine never felt like an outsider. Or an ex-anything. Julian was the ex. He was the one on the outs with the family. Expelled. Rejected. Failing. At least in Harper's eyes. And luckily for Catherine, she was the one he saw fulfilling his ambitions. She was still an Avery.

Elizabeth held true to her word. Divorce and all, Catherine was  _always_ a part of the family.

Damn.

Even years later, Catherine still missed that woman. Elizabeth had been gone over a decade and the absence was just as palpable. Catherine shook her head and looked down at the neatly stacked and signed copies of her son and new daughter in law's post nuptial agreement which had just arrived on her desk from the family lawyer.

Elizabeth Avery made being a mother in law seem far more effortless than she was finding it to be in her own life. It really wasn't easy at all. Especially when the position of mother in law was also a guardian of sorts of the Avery legacy and everything that entailed. But it wasn't as though she disliked her son's new wife.

In fact, April Kepner was a woman Catherine had almost instinctively started to care about.

From the moment they'd met, during her son's intern year at Mercy West, it was clear that April was smart and driven, but there was a sweetness and sensitivity to her that almost made one wonder whether or not she was actually cut out to be a surgeon. At the time, Catherine had been happy to step in and mentor her son's friend. She'd started to love the girl in a way when she and Jackson were the lone survivors of their intern group after a gunman shot up Seattle Grace Mercy West.

They'd stayed in touch, on the Facebook for several years until April pulled away, much to Catherine's disappointment. She gave April advice and the younger woman occasionally could supply Catherine with information about Jackson that her son neglected to share. To a point. There were some topics April didn't budge on, some secrets of Jackson's that she would not share, even when Catherine pushed her. And she had to respect that really.

Girl was uptight, but also incredibly trustworthy. It wasn't easily apparent when you looked at her, but April Kepner could hold her own.

The young woman was also full of surprises, as it turned out. As was Catherine's son. Just when she thought she knew Jackson and April well, and understood the nature of their close friendship, the two of them went and eloped to Lake Tahoe to get married.  _Married._  The love sick fools had gotten married.

Even with all those years of knowing April Kepner as well as her own son, Catherine was stunned.

_Stunned._

Not many things in this world could actually stun Catherine Avery anymore. Last time she'd checked, Jackson was dating some naive intern and April was planning a wedding to another man.

A man she'd  _left at the alter_  for Catherine's son.

Clearly, there was a lot more to April and Jackson's relationship than she'd known about before. He'd said it himself. However fast the marriage was (never mind the nearly non-existent engagement), the relationship between the the two was not new.

Not that Catherine knew anything about it.

And even though she felt sure they'd share the whole story with her in time, she wasn't too proud to admit (to herself at least and maybe Richard) that it hurt that Jackson and April hadn't decided tell her anything about their relationship at all. It hurt doubly that Catherine had had no role (or even knowledge about) their rushed wedding until days after it had happened.

She'd  _thought_  they were all closer than that. She liked to think she was closer to her son than that.

But apparently family and legacy failed to enter Jackson's mind when he proposed to April Kepner on the side of a highway. Or at any point after that, as far as Catherine had been able to tell. She was the one left to spin this publicly on behalf of the Harper Avery Foundation. Not him. Catherine was the one who had to explain the importance and scope of the Harper Avery Foundation to his new and seemingly clueless wife.

Not Jackson.

At least at their last meeting, April had seemed less  _tense._ And she'd agreed to sign the post nup. And she'd apologized to Catherine. April had even gotten  _Jackson_  to apologize. A rarity.

That helped Catherine to better accept the marriage.

She had to give them credit for the boldness of the whole thing. It wasn't easy to stand up for your love. Catherine was a little disappointed in them both, but that would pass. She'd been young and in love once too. And she could see the way Jackson looked at April. She'd never seen her son happier.

And while life wasn't as simple as finding true love and living happily ever after, it was nice to be in that bubble sometimes. This wasn't going to be easy for them. Love was something, but it didn't mean that being married wasn't hard. When Catherine had visited Seattle, it was clear that the couple wasn't ready to face that, and she wasn't really unsympathetic. A part of her had been eager for her son to settle down for years. She was itching for grandbabies. Now that possibility was closer to being a reality.

Having April in the family on an emotional level was probably a very good thing. For so many years it had been just Catherine, Jackson, and Harper.

However, that didn't mean Catherine was entirely certain about  _how_  April would fit into the Harper Avery Foundation. It wasn't an easy world to navigate. Especially for someone like April. Being an Avery carried a lot of responsibility. Duty to maintain the reputation. Dedication to the family.

But that was the price one had to pay for greatness. The price of the legacy.

Catherine had been honest when she'd raised concerns about her new daughter in law's strong beliefs. Another surprise about April that Catherine had no information about. The girl was a born again, who knows what? Pro-life? Jesus freak? And who knew what other beliefs April had? Catherine had no idea.

And how was it that after years of acquaintance, April never breathed a word to Catherine about believing any of these things?

April's beliefs were the biggest unknown factors to this whole equation for Catherine. April herself might be trustworthy, but Catherine didn't feel certain the same could be said of some of the woman's beliefs.

Beliefs that could well shape the future of the Harper Avery Foundation.

One thing Catherine had come to understand about legacy when her husband left? You could never be too careful. One ill equipped person like Julian could jeopardize years of work, careful cultivation, and meticulous family branding. One weak or wild person could be extremely dangerous to the entire Avery reputation. Catherine didn't know how April would handle it all yet. It certainly wasn't going to be easy, especially when Jackson's own interest in the foundation continued to be low.

Then again, Catherine hadn't known her place in the family when she'd first married Julian. All she knew right now was that she wanted her years of toil and triumph to mean something. To have a lasting impact on the Harper Avery Foundation.

Catherine wanted to preserve the family legacy.

Yes, most of that legacy existed because of Harper Avery's accomplishments and planning. But the reason it survived and remained undiscouraged by years of work was because of his wife, Elizabeth. And later because of Catherine herself. And someday it would grow because of the accomplishments of her own son.

And his new wife.

In time, Catherine learned too well that the Avery legacy was not always dependent on the Avery men, per say.

Rather, the strength of that legacy depended greatly on the women that they married.


	2. Chapter 2

_All Brawn and No Brain_

Jackson Avery fell asleep during his first Harper Avery Foundation Board meeting.

Unintentionally, of course.

But then again, he'd only been 15 years old and it was kind of boring and he'd spent most of the previous night cramming for a chemistry final that he had to take as soon as he got back to his boarding school from Boston. A test he could have bene taking right at that very moment, if not for the fact that his family (mostly his mother) had insisted that Jackson start sitting in on stupid board meetings of his Grandpa's organization. As a result, Jackson had had to get special permission to reschedule a private final from the headmaster.

On top of all of that, Jackson had to go directly from his test to basketball tryouts. So, not only was Jackson losing study time by going to this stupid meeting, but he was missing warm up time too.

And yet, his Mom expected him to excel in his studies and his sports activities. How was he supposed to do that if he had to come to boring ass meetings?

Why did Jackson have to start sitting in  _now_  when he was still in high school? If he was going to get stuck inheriting the role eventually (and he'd known for most of his life that he had no choice about  _that_ ), why couldn't Catherine have allowed him to have just a few more years of freedom?

It's not like his mom and grandpa really thought he could make much of a difference anyway.

To them, Jackson was  _just_  a boy. Interested in sports, and girls, and Nike shoes. (That's not to say that he wasn't interested in those things as a teenager, but he'd always resented the way much of his family saw him.)

They thought he couldn't hack it in the field of medicine like they did. (How wrong that assumption would turn out to be) Their lack of faith in him was probably why they insisted Jackson come to the dumb meetings in the first place. Because they thought it would be hard for him and wanted to get him learning early. Because they thought that working at the Harper Avery Foundation was as close to a surgical OR as Jackson could ever get.

And why? Was it all because he'd had a hard time in biology for a few years in middle school? He'd managed to get a passing grade in the end. Was it because he'd accidentally slept through football tryouts? Jackson didn't know. He didn't even like football all that much anyway.

In time, Jackson suspected that maybe they'd been worried he would end up like his father. Julian hadn't been able to hack it as a doctor. Or as anything else, as far as Jackson had heard. Julian didn't make an effort to keep in touch.

And what did Julian's failure have to do with him? Jackson barely remembered his father.

He didn't think they were at all alike. To be honest, Jackson preferred not to think of Julian at all. In fact he made a point  _not_  to. No matter what anyone else thought about him, even at age 15, Jackson knew he was stronger than his father.

It just seemed like someone  _always_  had something to say about him. No matter what Jackson did. No matter how hard he tried or didn't try. If he succeeded people acted like he hadn't really earned it because of his famous family, and if he failed people said it was because he was a lazy rich pretty boy. It really almost wasn't worth making an effort in the first place. Jackson's actions were always the actions of an  _Avery_  before anything else.

He could never win. It wasn't fair.

And it always felt like his family was trying to be simultaneously hard and easy on him. Not pressuring him in one sense and pressuring him in another. His grandfather didn't seem to expect him to amount too much, while his mother seemed to expect him to become president of the United States.

It seemed everyone and anyone had an opinion of what Jackson was like. What the grandson of Harper Avery  _should_  be like. What the son of Catherine Avery  _should_  become.

But no one ever asked him. That got on Jackson's nerves. No on ever asked him what he wanted. And no one ever seemed willing to get close enough to him to find out.

Another thing people assumed about Avery's? That they were all as distant, aloof, and stuck up as his grandfather.

At least his ailing grandmother always liked Jackson just the way he was. Not that she saw him much when he was in high school. Elizabeth was sick with cancer and Jackson was all the way in Connecticut most of the time for school.

He'd just nodded off, thinking about the indignity and pointlessness of others expectations of him, and letting his head hang forward over the files in front of him. Jackson's mother Catherine, only rolled her eyes fondly as she nudged the teenager awake with a snort. His grandfather, however, did not overlook Jackson's drowsiness so easily.

"Are you with us, Jackie?" he'd asked incredulously from the other side of the table.

Embarrassed, Jackson had sat up straight and nodded, "Yeah, I am."

"Hmmm..."

Harper pursed his lips and swiveled his chair and regarded the rest of the room seriously, "As we've all just learned, the Roslin institute has cloned a sheep! It'll be news out to the broader public in a number of weeks, and given the stem cell technique used, and the fact that they were able to create a successful clone of a higher order complex mammal, I think we as a Foundation need to start considering the longer term implications of such procedures on the medical field."

Jackson's eyes widened and he scrambled to look through the files in front of him. Cloning? Whoa! He must have missed that in the briefs. Clearly he should have read them more thoroughly.  _This_  was cool stuff. The kind of stuff his classmates weren't privy to. The kind of stuff you read about in books or saw in movies.

Only, according to Jackson's grandfather, it was real.

"Cloned?" he said in awe. " _Cloned_  cloned? But how did they do it? Why did they do it? There's a  _real_  clone?"

Harper gave his grandson a withering look. Clearly the old man was not interested in being interrupted. Or in explaining the background of all of this to someone he'd known had been half asleep for most of the meeting. Jackson gulped and ducked his head. Sometimes as a teenager he'd found his grandfather to be incredibly intimidating.

Scratch that.

 _Most_  of the time Jackson found Harper Avery to be incredibly intimidating.

Catherine nudged her son gently, never dropping her cool expression for the rest of the board, and whispered, "Page 36, Jackson, honey."

Grateful to be rescued, the teenager had quickly flipped through the mass of papers in front of him. There is was. A picture of a fluffy little white lamb named Dolly. A clone of her mother, apparently. A cute and adorable little animal.

An adorable animal's who's DNA was the stuff of science fiction.

"Cool," Jackson breathed, with a faint smile.

For the first time, he'd thought that maybe these meetings weren't going to be so lame after all.

(Unfortunately, even as a grown man, this first meeting was pretty much the high point of Jackson's experience. The Harper Avery Foundation was powerful and well connected and cutting edge, but even  _they_  didn't get to work with clones everyday.)

Jackson stared, transfixed by Dolly's image as his grandfather continued to drone on.

"It doesn't take much stretching of the imagination to understand the ramifications of this successful cloning on the medical field. If the clone continues to be healthy, and does not suffer any adverse effects from being a clone, then that opens up a whole host of opportunities for medical and surgical application."

An affirmative murmur filled the room and out of the corner of his eye, Jackson had caught sight of his mother nodding vigorously. Everyone in the boardroom was getting really excited.

One of the other board members shook his head in disbelief, "If physicians can access stem cells and successfully copy them?"

"We could someday be able to give people copies of their  _own_ genetic organs in lieu of waiting for transplant matches!" Catherine replied enthusiastically.

"We could rejuvenate  _any_  dying or unhealthy cells with perfect copies of new ones!" A female board member added.

A glint of something youthful appeared in Harper's eye. He always seemed less severe when he was contemplating the frontiers of medicine.

"This breakthrough likely opens possibilities for us to develop procedures we can't ever even  _dream_  of! If the Harper Avery Foundation invests in the Roslin Institute and their work with this clone, we can obtain intellectual property rights to the fruits of that research, and use it for future medical endeavors."

Jackson's eyes widened. His mind started to run wild with the possibilities. What if doctors could someday clone humans? Like if you got old and rickety and then they could just transfer your brain into a new and young body?

That was one of the first times Jackson could remember being truly and fundamentally awed by the possibilities of science.

"Some medical organizations are going to shy away from this kind of development, Harper," his mother added with a sigh. "I mean, we invest in this and the religious right will, no doubt accuse us of trying to play God. You remember what happened with the reproductive rights grant initiative a few years back...we lost some donors."

Harper huffed, and rolled his eyes, "Ah, yes. They'll fight tooth and nail to ensure that people are born, but don't give a rat's behind about what happens to you once you get here. Yes, we lost donors. Investing in Roslin will probably lose us some donors...but the things we could develop as a result of adding them to our portfolio? That's worth it. Any donor or member who wouldn't support that? Well, they don't support our mission."

It seemed that Harper was gearing up to another one of his speeches, extolling the virtues of medical and surgical progress. Jackson had learned the signs long ago, on the holidays and at family gatherings of his childhood. "Jackie," his grandfather would say over and over again. "There is no nobler calling than that which pushes back against the mysteries of the universe with the express and singular purpose of helping others."

Jackson knew the words by heart.

At that particular meeting Jackson had tuned out, and let his cheek rest on his fist as his gaze drifted back down to the files in front of him. His gaze had been inexplicably drawn to the photo of Dolly. His mood became pensive.

"We believe in research," Harper continued passionately. "We believe in science. We believe in helping people. Donors who do not share those values are frankly not worth our time."

He didn't know much about sheep, but something about Dolly spoke to Jackson. Which, even at the time, he'd realized was a little weird.

"I agree with you," Catherine interjected her father in law calmly. "But we also must consider the publicity impact as well. We're still getting some backlash about the women's health clinics in certain parts of the country...it might be better to go in as a silent backer for Roslin until some of of that dies down. We still get access to the intellectual property but-"

"While normally I would bend to your wisdom, Catherine," Harper interrupted, pointing his finger decisively on the table in front of him. "I don't want to be silent and smoke and mirrors with this investment. I want the record to show where the Foundation stood on this issue, and that we put our money were our mouth is. This sheep and the technology used to create her, and the technology she will help to spawn is something I want the public and posterity to know we care about! My legacy, this foundation's legacy, is always going to focus on innovation."

Looking at the picture of the small white lamb, Jackson considered that Dolly had no idea what she was. She was only farm animal after all. He didn't know much about livestock, but he was pretty certain that they had no concept of cloning. He wondered if she knew she wasn't a normal sheep. Maybe it was better not to know.

Dolly was special. The way she came into being had been scientifically impossible a matter of years previous. Dolly was going to be watched and monitored and studied her whole life. Whether she liked it or not. Everyone had plans for her. Human beings across the world had a million ideas for what her legacy would be.

She had no choice. She'd probably just keep on living her sheep life, regardless. It's not like Dolly could change her fate.

"Jackie? Are you paying attention? You will have to deal with these matters someday, you know? You might at least pay attention to how we resolve issues like this. This foundation will be yours to guide someday my boy..."

Strangely, Jackson had realized that he had quite a lot in common with certain sheep in Scotland. And he supposed they only way to cope would be to think more simply. Keep your eyes straight ahead. Take care of yourself. Deal with what is in front of you, screw what happened behind you and don't worry about what is ahead.

Jackson's head snapped up, flushing with embarrassment once more, "Uh, yes Grandpa. I'm listening...I am..."

* * *

The more things change, the more they stayed the same.

Even over 15 years later, his grandfather still punctuated any silence in a board meeting with the glaringly condescending, "Are you with us, Jackie?", recalling Jackson's youthful behavior. As though he hadn't grown or changed or accomplished anything as a man in the intervening years. As though he hadn't become a certified ENT and plastics fellow. As though he hadn't taken on the role of being Harper Avery representative on the board at Grey Sloan. None of that seemed to matter much to his grandfather.

To Harper, he was still sleepy, mediocre Jackie.

And it wasn't like Jackson's coworkers really respected him either. Not even his fellow board members. Especially his fellow board members. If Meredith wasn't giving him the silent treatment over Yang not winning the Harper Avery Award, Bailey was staring him down for trying to alter the level of funding for her research.

And Webber was chewing him out and cutting him out at every turn. Acting as though the partnership between the hospital and the foundation was a doomed marriage. Never mind the fact that there would be no Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital at  _all_ , if it wasn't for the Harper Avery Foundation.

They didn't get it. Jackson had nothing to do with this years award selection. He wasn't trying to cancel all their projects. He was trying to  _save_  them. You'd think his fellow board members would be grateful.

But no.

They blamed him for it and badgered him for it, and it wasn't even as though Jackson had asked for the position on the board in the first place. He never wanted to be chair of the board. As much as Jackson thought he'd learned to handle the responsibility of the position, that was all his mother's idea.

Jackson had to admit that while he'd long chaffed at on the leash of his name and family, lately it had had it's perks. He really did enjoy being on the Grey Sloan board, representing the Harper Avery Foundation. Though he'd never have picked the position for himself, but Jackson thought he was decent at it. And not every doctor could save a kid's life by ordering a private plane.

For all he'd tried to downplay his Avery background at the hospital, in the end, it was  _his_  background that had saved the place. Catherine, (and subsequently the Harper Avery's Foundation) wouldn't have been half as interested in saving the hospital and it's surgeons in the first place (from a mess that was basically self created, no less), if not for the fact that Jackson had a history and a connection to the place. Without him, Grey Sloan Memorial wouldn't even exist. But no one seemed to notice that.

The Harper Avery Foundation, for their part, was not unaware of how unhappy the board members of Grey Sloan seemed to be. His mother had called him just that evening as a matter of fact. Bugging him to get things in order on his end. It was bad publicity to have a staff at a member hospital being so outspoken in their opposition to the Harper Avery Foundation. Grey Sloan was dangerously close to becoming a liability, and Harper Avery Foundation was never loathe to let go of liabilities.

A lot of the time as an adult Jackson still felt like he couldn't win.

Except for the times he did.

Jackson smiled as he looked to his right at the woman who was snuggled against him in the chapel pew. April.  _His_  wife.

Big win.

The concept was still new and hard to believe. He was so lucky. Jackson had literally almost let April slip away. He'd been stuck in a well of pride and denial, and he'd very nearly allowed April to marry someone else. She'd gotten down the aisle before he'd grown the balls to ask for what he wanted. Before he told her that he loved her. Which, Jackson admitted, was terribly terribly timed.

But hey, April had run out of the barn with  _him_. She'd gone to Lake Tahoe to get married to  _him_. She was having a baby with  _him_.

A baby. (He  _definitely_  wasn't used to saying that)

For so long Jackson had been used to being set apart from everyone else. To having his own back. To protecting himself, and the few people he cared about. Today, April had reminded him that he wasn't a lone ranger anymore. Webber had laid into him,  _again_  in the gallery outside the conjoined twin surgery, in front of both attendings and residents alike, but April had shut the old man down. She had Jackson's back (even in the midst of a bit of a tense transition in their own married life). It was a great reminder for Jackson. Old habits die hard, he supposed, but he now could (and needed to learn how to) lean on April.

Because she'd be there for Jackson when he needed.

Beside him, April nestled closer against his shoulder and let out a small but content sigh, making Jackson's smile broaden. It was the happiest he'd seen her in a while. It was the happiest he'd felt in a while. What a crazy month.

Beyond his ongoing work woes, the past several days had brought Jackson and April to the first real fight of their marriage.  _  
_

It all started with the deaf kid, and spiraled out of control from there. One minute they were talking about cochlear implants, the next about their own hypothetical deaf child, and the next the fact that April thought he didn't respect her religious beliefs. Jackson loved April, but sometimes he didn't always understand her intuitive leaps. At the time, it had totally thrown him for a loop.

Why did it have to be so difficult? Why couldn't they just enjoy being newly married? They finally were together after  _so_  long. Why couldn't she just let things be until they actually had to worry about what religion they raised their children in?

Of course, it turned out she was pregnant and they did have to worry about it. And so some of April's urgency and anxiety made sense.  _Some_  of it.

Jackson had to admit to himself that he didn't really understand religion. The Avery's weren't exactly religious, and he'd always been taught to put faith in the mind, man, and medicine. Often it seemed that religion could be an obstacle for things the Avery foundation wanted to do. And it wasn't as though faith or any concept close to it had ever actually gotten Jackson anywhere.

Jackson was certain that God and religion were just societal constructs.

In his life, there was little room for believe in magic of faith in the unknown. It didn't do any good. Evidence and past experiences ruled paramount. Wishing for his father to come home never worked. Wishing his grandfather could find a cure for his grandmother had failed. Wishing that people would see and get to know Jackson for who he really was, beyond his last name didn't make the occurrence any less rare.

Somethings about the universe were immutable and unchanging. And it could all be measured by observation and explained by science. That's what Jackson believed. That's what life had taught him to believe.

But April pitied him for that. Which was hard to take.

Almost as hard as her initial reveal about her religion to Jackson in San Francisco. That had floored him as well. Of all the things Jackson had expected April to say to him out side their board exams, essentially 'I was a virgin for Jesus and now Jesus hates me' was absolute dead least on his list. This was a person he'd known for years, someone he cared about, and the fact that April was a deeply devout Christian  _never_  came up in conversation. And how important could her vow of abstinence have been if she was able to give it up so many times?

That was still hard for Jackson to wrap his head around. On some level Jackson kind of chalked up April's religion as another quirk in an already quirky personality. It was easier to rationalize that way. Easier to ignore. Less of a problem. Jackson didn't know why it bothered him so much.

Part of it was because it seemed to Jackson like April's religion had caused the two of them a lot more trouble that it appeared to be worth. That's where her guilt and regret had come from in their initial relationship, after all. Jackson felt like April's beliefs only ever came up when it related to something that would make him feel miserable and threw a wrench in their life.

Jackson slipped his copy of the sonogram picture out of his pocket and held it out in front of them. April glanced tearfully at the paper, and ran her fingers along the outline of their baby. A whole new being created (quite vigorously) by the two of them. Part Jackson and part April, but also completely new. Completely his or her little self.

Blueberry sized.

When he really thought about it, the church thing probably wouldn't be so terrible. April obviously felt much stronger about her belief in the existence of God than he did in his views against the idea. While he was still skeptical about it all, Jackson figured he didn't have to change what he believed. He just had to push it all down and away from the fore. The same way he did with a lot of unpleasant feelings.

Jackson didn't have to try to change who he was. He just had to bend.

 _This_  didn't have to make Jackson feel miserable or throw a wrench in his life. Work might suck at the moment, but Jackson ought to be happy about his life at home.

So, Jackson had slowly come to the realization that church was going to have to be a part of his life, whether he believed in it's teachings or not. (He didn't) His children would be exposed to it as well, whether they grew to believe in it all or not. (If he was perfectly honest with himself, Jackson kind of hoped that they wouldn't) He would expose them to his own belief system as now, Jackson was okay with that.

And the seats weren't that bad. And a Sunday waffles tradition might be fun. A fun thing to do with the not so hypothetical child. The kind of fun thing he'd rarely ever gotten to do with his own mother and father growing up.

Jackson wanted them to be happy about this.

He shook his head and chuckled, recalling April at lunch talking about baby names. Looking down at the sonogram, Jackson stretched his feet forward, "What about Jordan, if it's a boy?"

April peered up at him with a scowl and then followed Jackson's gaze down past the photograph to his sneakers, "As long as I am conscious, I will not let you name our child after a pair of shoes."

It seemed they had as different of taste in baby names as they did belief systems. He smirked, "A pair of shoes named after a great basketball player."

She shook her head, "No."

"Great name, boy or girl..."

"Jackson!"

"Alright," Jackson laughed. "Just saying."

April laughed too, gazing at the sonogram once more, with a look of wonder that she hadn't displayed in the appointment that morning. Jackson pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.

"Also...um, thanks," he added quietly. "For today...with Webber. That was pretty awesome."

She shook her head, "Of course. He was wrong. He shouldn't talk to you that way...it's not right. "

"It's just...I get that he's mad about Yang. I get that they all are."

"You didn't have anything to do with that, Jackson."

"I know! And my mom's calling me all the time and the board doesn't exactly  _appreciate_  the fact that Grey Sloan is making it look like the Foundation is stifling their doctors. She's not happy about this appeal. Webber and the rest, I get where they are coming from. But...this could get bad. This hospital needs the Harper Avery Foundation a lot more than the foundation needs the hospital."

April frowned and looked up at him again, "What does that mean?"

Jackson shrugged, "I am hoping it doesn't come to that. I am gonna try and make sure it doesn't."

"Anything I can do?"

Where once Jackson would have said no right away, outright (because none of this was her problem really), he paused, tiling his head to once side. The thing was, Jackson was used to dealing with all things Avery, all on his own. It was  _his_ family, and therefore  _his_  problem. Except now, he had another family.  _This_  little family. Him, April, and this baby. They were Avery's too. Jackson took a deep breath.

Being together was infinitely better than being alone.

"Actually, if it gets down to the wire with the board...I might need your help."

April wrapped an arm around Jackson, and grinned, "Anytime."

Big win.

Too bad wins never seemed to last that long. If only life were that easy.

There were sonograms to come and check up appointments to come in the ensuing weeks and each seemed to be more joyful than the last. Jackson always made a point to come and delighted in watching as their blueberry turned into a grape. It was an amazing thing. He and April had this wonderful secret all to themselves, having chosen to hold off on telling people (though Jackson was sure a few could guess) about the pregnancy until they'd safely reached the second trimester. They dared to daydream, bickered over names, and tried to imagine what their baby would look like.

Jackson watched and touched as his wife's once flat abdomen began to grow, forming a small and distinct curve in her belly where their grape baby progressed to it's next stage of fruit. Noticeable if you knew to look (or knew the curves of April's body as intimately as Jackson did), but still small enough to leave most unaware.

Once again they were back in a little bubble of happiness, not unlike their rather short lived honeymoon period, and in it Jackson found bliss.

Especially given the fact that he still got grief from both the hospital board and his mother about Cristina Yang, researched funding, staff retention and anything else the two groups found to get angry at each other about. Grey Sloan Memorial was threatening mutiny. The Harper Avery Foundation was threatening to withdraw funding.

Jackson was caught in the middle. His mother wanted him to pull rank on the board and make the rest of the members all into line.

"This is how you lead, son," Catherine advised many times on the phone. "This is what I raised you to do. Get your legacy on.  _Lead_  them from their own insanity. Or cut them loose. There's no choice."

Sometimes it felt like he almost never had a choice.

In life, people liked to think that they had control over things. Like you had the power over whatever happened to the people you loved. No one liked feeling powerless.

None the less, Jackson had worked at this hospital long enough to learn that powerlessness is almost a default human state. So many things are out of your control. Gunmen barge into hospitals, planes fall from the sky, and terrorists decide to blow up a truck outside a busy shopping center.

At least, that's what they'd thought at the time. It had been all over the news as the patients started to pour in and Jackson had suddenly found himself inundated with cases. Burns and skin lacerations and amputations. All gruesome. And even though the terror attack wasn't actually a terror attack it was still wreaking havoc on Seattle.

Jackson had spent most of that day in emergency surgeries, trying to salvage what he could of victims skin for future grafting. The last time he'd caught sight of his wife was as he took a patient out of triage on his way to an OR. April had been in her element, running the Emergency Room like a factory assembly line, with her arms in the air as she spoke with the residents. Half like she was a traffic cop directing chaotic traffic, and half like she was a conductor directing a glorious symphony.

Safe and in control. In the ER.  _Her_  space. Just another day at the office, right?

And maybe it was the rush of patients, or the relief of finding out that this explosion was terrible accident and not a malicious attack, or the fact that he was ignoring the 11th message left on his phone from his mother (which he knew was probably about the foundation and not terrorism), or perhaps the small but confident nod his wife had given him when he saw her in the ER, but Jackson had let his guard down that day. He'd zoned in on his work and his patients and it had never occurred to him that anything could go wrong. He should have been paying better attention.

That an accident could still be just as bad and just as dangerous as an act of terror, even long after the explosions were finished.

Jackson hadn't even been fully able to process the situation when it was initially explained to him. He just couldn't hear the words over the suddenly thundering sound of his pulse, and the rising panic in his chest.

He gaped at Richard Webber and blinked, "I'm sorry, what?"

Board related animosity aside, Webber watched Jackson kindly. He was accompanied by a couple of official looking individuals with jackets that indicated they were from the CDC.

Richard sighed , slipping his hands to his hips as he repeated, "The truck that exploded...It was a chemical waste transport."

One of the CDC officials jumped in, "One of the patients, the driver, who came into the hospital and subsequently passed away, exposed high levels of chemical radiation to the physicians that worked on him or near him. We believe that the source was localized to that single patient so there doesn't seem to be too high of a risk for the hospital at large, though we are monitoring that very closely and treating those who were exposed."

Jackson flinched as Webber reached out to squeeze his shoulder, "Most of the ER staff are under quarantine. Including Dr. Kepner."

He wasn't usually one to invoke a higher power. But...

Oh God.

His wife. His child. A whole hot of possibilities ran through his mind. Chemicals and radiation. None of that was good. It wasn't good for a normal healthy person, and it wasn't good for a pregnant woman. And it sure as hell wasn't good for a grape sized, still developing, fetus.

The sheer Jackson's face must have been clear and he fumbled, "But they were following protocols. Masks and gowns and gloves and-"

"With levels that high, most precautions don't prevent exposure completely. They certainly protected the individuals involved. We don't expect many casualties from this, and that's down to your hospital's effective and proper use of safety standards."

Jackson was already staggering down the hall, using his feet and what was left of his rational mind to guide himself to Grey Sloan's designated quarantine space.

" _Many_ casualties?" he demanded aggressively. "You don't expect  _many_?"

Maddeningly indifferent (at least to Jackson's eyes) the other official explained, "The quarantine is more of a precaution than anything else. Only a few of them are exhibiting symptoms. Fatigue, itching. That sort of thing. Some have rashes. A few have respiratory distress. One presenting with extreme nausea-"

And that was the last Jackson heard because he was running. He didn't even care about whatever it was Webber was calling out after him, or about anything else the CDC had to say. Because he was running. He was running down one hall and the next. He was flying down the stairs and dashing through more halls.

Jackson was running to his family.

At some point a pair of gruff arms blocked his way, "Sir! Sir! You can't go past this point. This is a quarantine zone."

"I don't give a damn!" Jackson shouted, straining to break free. Because even though he understood the importance and necessity of not breaking quarantines in dangerous situations, all he could think about was April. Was she alright? He didn't even want to let himself think too much about what radiation exposure could mean for the baby.

Suddenly it was hard to breathe.

A pair of gentler hands guided him in a different direction, away from the disgruntled CDC official.

"Avery..." Arizona spoke quietly, leading him down a different hallway. "They're not gonna let you in. The CDC hasn't let any of us in. They've got their own people handling this. Come with me. You have to go the back way, to the windows..."

She led Jackson quickly through the growing plethora of CDC doctors who seemed to be arriving and descending upon the hospital like locusts. Through hallways that once had seemed familiar and welcoming to him, but which now only held terror and fear, finally stopping in front of the long floor to ceiling window of what was once a Grey's Sloan waiting room.

Through the glass Jackson could see the rows of hospital beds lined up in the small space they'd converted for quarantine. Beds that were supposed to be for patients, now filled with faces Jackson knew. Dr. Conrad and Dr. Myers. A few others. Most looked fine. They were sitting up and on the edges of beds, looking bored and frustrated as they anxiously typed on their phones.

Bokhee had wore an oxygen mask. Nurse Tyler looked uncomfortable and lay curled up in a ball on his bed, scratching furiously against his his upper arms. Murphy appeared to be worse off then him. Angry red rashes covered the parts of exposed skin that Jackson could see as the young woman moaned pitifully, sweating and laying in a fetal position in her bed. A CDC nurse, decked out in protective clothing that looked like it was designed for outer space, was carefully applying a cream to the back of Leah's neck.

But Jackson's gaze froze when he saw who occupied the bed in the corner, set apart among the rest with a small curtain, and nearest to the window. It was April, looking pale and uncomfortable, and holding a red biohazard bag in her lap as a different CDC nurse appeared to be taking her vitals.

The need for the bag (and the curtain) became immediately apparent, when April leaned forward and wretched into the bag violently. Jackson and Arizona both winced.

This was torture. Jackson felt powerless. He could see April, but he couldn't touch her.

Jackson placed his hand on the quarantine glass just as April looked up and met his wide eyed gaze. It seemed as though she was about to say something to him, because she pulled a brief weak smile, but the moment was quickly lost when she doubled over and vomited into the bio bag once again.

Bubbles pop so easily. And as ever, it just seemed like Jackson couldn't win.


	3. Chapter 3

_A Hillbilly with a Pocket Knife_

April's first Harper Avery Foundation board meeting was actually an emergency hearing that she attended via teleconference from her quarantine room at the hospital.

Really, it probably didn't even count as an actual meeting, given that April had been hunched over in her bed, squinting at an ipad screen. In time, she'd attend countless more formal proceedings, full of business suits, and swivel chairs and everything else she'd imagined to exist in the board room of a multimillion dollar foundation (along with all the things she'd never imagined).

But technically, that first time, her first experience taking part in the machine that was the Harper Avery Foundation, the first time April felt she'd made a difference in the organization, had occurred while she was stuck in a hospital bed.

During one of the darkest moments of her life.

Jackson sat to her left, just beyond the quarantine glass, staring at his own tablet's camera intently. That spot in the hallway had become his home it seemed. Jackson ate there. He slept there. He was close enough to touch, if not for the glass. April wanted nothing more than to hold his hand, but when he was allowed in the room with her, Jackson had to wear as much protective gear as her CDC caretakers. Any visitor had to, until she tested clear of contamination. Though that meant that actual touch was out of the question, those clothes had kept Jackson safe.

And really? In the moment, that was all April had wanted. At least  _someone_  she loved was okay.

Her husband spoke to her through the video chat as they waited for the conference call with Boston to begin.

"We don't have to do this," Jackson implored, looking every bit as tired and worn out as April felt. " _You_  don't have to do this."

The earnest and terror filled expression on his face is so intense on her tablet's screen that April turned to the window look at her husband in the read world. Jackson raised his head too, placing his hand on the glass window separating them. April lifted her own shaking hand to the same spot. It was the closest she'd come to touching her husband without protective gear in nearly a week. And it wasn't enough.

How much things could change in one terrible week.

April's voice was thick as she'd tried to hold in her tears, " _Yes_  I do. There are a lot of things I can't do right now, Jackson."

She couldn't leave the quarantine. She couldn't make Jackson feel better. She couldn't make herself feel better either. Worst of all, April couldn't protect her baby. She'd just been getting used to the idea of a baby. Excited even. Thrilled. Sticking sonogram photos on the fridge. Being good about exercising and eating healthy. Staying away from x-rays and smokers and everything else she'd thought was potentially harmful.

Except contaminated emergency trauma patients, of course. Everything except her precious work.

April wasn't even really a mother yet, and it felt like she'd already failed her child. Utterly and completely.

At first, the CDC didn't even know what chemicals she and the baby were exposed to. The truck crash and subsequent explosion, revealed an underlying weakness in the chemical waste transportation system. It was staggering to find that it seemed that no one knew exactly what the truck had been carrying through a well populated metropolitan area.

 _How_  could someone not keep better track of something like that? How could they not having tracking systems and checklists?

April had treated several critical patients injured in the explosion, and one of them, despite all the protocols she'd followed,  _rules_  that she  _trusted,_ exposed not only her but most of her staff to dangerously high levels of unknown chemicals. Murphy had it the worst it seemed, experiencing the complete gamut of symptoms, from rashes, to nausea, to trouble breathing. Bokhee was also not faring well or experiencing as quick of a recovery due to her age. And then April of course, had been a special case due to her pregnancy, which required many more tests and close monitoring.

She and her little lemonish sized fetus, warranted their own CDC obstetric specialist, flown in from DC, as well as a slew of extra medication to help combat the contamination. There were many questions, but few answers.

At one point the fear had been that the waste the trauma team was exposed to was nuclear radiation. That had sent April into a spiral of worries, half remembered studies she'd read in medical school about the medical devastation left behind in the wake of disasters like Hiroshima and Chernobyl for survivors, and in particular on the women who'd been pregnant at the time of the events, and the children born as a result. She was a physician, she'd learned about all of this stuff in school. This kind of thing might not have been her specialty, but what April did know was enough. The only time she'd needed oxygen in all of this had nothing to do with her chemical exposure.

Upon hearing talk of nuclear radiation, April had had a severe panic attack.

But it seemed that she'd 'lucked' out in a few ways. The CDC was able to rule out nuclear waste at least. And the treatments they were implementing were apparently working, and most of the trauma staff (with the exception of Murphy and Bokhee) seemed to be on the mend.

Best of all, an ultrasound told them that the baby's heart was still beating strong. When the sound had filled the room during her examination, both Jackson and April had cried. Their baby's heart was still beating. Whatever the extent of chemical exposure April had, it didn't seem like it was causing her to miscarry. Yet, anyway. Which was both good and bad. Because even though the exposure wasn't making her lose the baby, it had almost certainly impacted fetal development. Currently, April was being subjected to a battery of tests and examinations. The OB was trying to determine what impact the chemical exposure would have on the baby and it's viability, but so far they knew the baby was still alive.

That was about all they knew, but it was something. Now all that was left was wait for the test results.

So, there were a lot of things April couldn't do. Many aspects of her life she didn't have control over. She  _needed_  to be able to do something other than wait and pray.

April sniffed and tapped her fingers on the glass near Jackson's hand, "I can do this. I want to do this. Let me help. Please? Let me be able to help with something...please?"

Because April was  _barely_  holding it together and so many things were out of her control and the one thing she could do would be to vote in a stupid meeting to save the hospital that she loved. She couldn't protect her baby, her husband or herself, but maybe, just maybe, she could protect her work place.

April understood Jackson's concerns. She got that he was worried about her and the baby. As he should be. April could tell that her husband felt hopeless and helpless. But that was nothing compared to how April felt. Because all of this was  _her_  fault, not his.

Physically, she didn't feel  _that_ bad. Okay. Well, she had kind of felt miserable and achy and barfed a lot of the time, but she couldn't really distinguish if that was a symptom of her pregnancy or of the chemical exposure.

But emotionally? April was a wreck. Waiting for test results was agonizing. The guilt that she felt for being the reason that her child was in danger was eating her alive. She was the one who'd been exposed. It was  _her_  body, her blood vessels pumping her little lemon with whatever poison it was, and there was nothing April could do to change that. The possibilities of consequences were devastating. The pressure and the fear of the unknown felt like it would crush her. She knew that she was very close to snapping. If not for prayer, and her faith that God had a plan in all of this,  _somewhere,_  April didn't think she would've held it together.

She was dangerously close to  _not_  being able to hold it together. She was dangerously close to succumbing to the yawning black chasm of sadness and panic that threatened at every moment to overwhelm her. She knew falling off of that cliff into a darkness of emotion would leave her curled up in a corner sobbing somewhere for days. Maybe even forever.

April didn't even know if she could come back from that. It was so easy to get lost.

And what had April turned to every other time in her life when she'd faced hard feelings such as these?

When people ridiculed her at school, April studied. When her supposed junior prom date had told her the truth about asking her on out as a dare, and subsequently backed out of taking her, April had thrown herself into helping her sister, Kimmie prepare for the dance instead. When she'd tripped over her best friend's dead body, faced down a gunman and lost another close friend, April had worked tirelessly to get herself cleared for surgery.

April needed to keep herself busy. This Harper Avery meeting would fill that need.

Jackson had stared at her intently through the glass, brow furrowed as though he was thinking very hard. Calculating. April swallowed hard and looked down at her hands. She was afraid. For the baby, obviously, (that concern was the most paramount) but also because she was pretty sure that if something did turn out to be wrong with their child, the two of them would disagree about how to proceed. Because they saw the world differently. In this situation, no amount of compromise or waffles could change that.

And then Jackson would hate her. She'd hate herself.

Plus, Jackson was as messed up  as she was and this was one way to avoid thinking about the baby for a while. He seemed to have come to the same conclusion, because he sighed and spoke quietly, "Okay...right. That's what we'll do then. I-I could use your vote."

Jackson did need her vote. Catherine Avery and the formidable Harper Avery Foundation in no way appreciated the way that the other Grey Sloan board members responded to Cristina Yang's Harper Avery loss. Nor were they pleased with the perceived mutiny coming from the board either, and the way that Webber was publicly implying that Harper Avery money was hurting the hospitals chances at attracting the best talent. It also seemed there was trouble in paradise between her mother in law and the former chief. All these things and more had been building for weeks, though April felt that Jackson had shielded her from most things involving the Harper Avery Foundation.

Added all together it was a recipe for disaster.

Then, when the actual disaster happened, it seemed that Catherine and the Harper Avery Foundation were on a war path. They were threatening to withdraw their critical funding of Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. Despite the ownership that the plane crash survivors had in the hospital, it simply could not function without backing from the Harper Avery Foundation. Cristina's appeal alone was enough to irk them, but Catherine all but lost it when she found out that her own daughter in law's health had been compromised in responding to the supposed terrorism in Seattle. Nothing April or Jackson had been able to say over the phone seemed to be able to convince the formidable woman that the situation wasn't a part of some huge safety failure on Grey Sloan Memorial's part.

Not that she even knew how bad the situation with April really was. Catherine did not know that her daughter in law was pregnant. She just knew that she was sick and wanted something to blame.

April had thought about that day over and over in her head. She'd run the ER perfectly; they'd saved 80% of the patients injured in the explosion, including ones with extremely severe burns. She'd worn a mask, gown, and gloves at all times when treating incoming patients. So did all her staff. They'd done everything they were supposed to. Everything that doctors were sworn to do. And it blew up in their faces. Grey Sloan didn't cause any of it. April didn't blame them.

It was her fault she got exposed to chemical radiation. Not the hospital's.

Now Harper Avery was poised to not only withdraw funding from Grey Sloan altogether, but to use their considerable clout to discredit the hospital for being somehow at fault for the accidental contamination.

Where once the Harper Avery Foundation had felt huge and intimidating, it's responsibilities and pressures now seemed like a welcome respite to April when compared to worrying about what was going on inside of her own body. Compared to what was potentially happening to her own child on her watch. That felt more foreign to April than a board meeting.

In anger, she'd accused Jackson's family once of only caring about the Foundation. The medicine. The work. When she was mad, April sometimes thought that it seemed like Avery's put those ideas above more important things like faith, friendships, and even family.

And maybe they did. But right now, April kind of understood why. Perhaps for them the medicine, the foundation in particular, was a force larger than themselves. Something bigger that made all the bad things that happened in life seem less consequential. Less painful.

April looked back up and held Jackson's gaze again as the call to Boston finally went through. He swallowed and tried to smile at her, but the expression that fell across his handsome features more resembled a grimace.

In an instant their tablets burst to life, revealing not only their own video images, but now providing a window into a dim board room in Boston.

Catherine's brow furrowed in a very familiar way when she saw not only her son, but his wife as well, "Jackson, you didn't need to drag April into all of this. Honey, aren't you supposed to be resting?"

Jackson replied before April could even open her mouth. They did that a lot. Catherine and Jackson. Sometimes it seemed their conversations traveled at the speed of light and transformed in to arguments  _just_  as quickly.

"Mom, I am sure she'd rest a lot better if you and the foundation weren't threatening to suspend funding to the hospital she's trying to recover in!"

April knew that the edge in Jackson's voice came from the same panic and terror that coiled up in her own heart. She knew Jackson felt irritation over the uncertainty surrounding their child and put off by the fact that this vote was actually happening because his mother pushed for it.

April knew this, but Catherine clearly did not.

"Sweetie," she admonished calmly snapping the fingers of her left hand for effect. "We'll transfer her if it comes to that. We can transfer her to the best hospital in the country in an instant. But this is bigger than April. Somebody has to take responsibility. Grey Sloan has allowed no less than 10 members of it's own staff to fall victim to chemical exposure."

This time April managed to find her voice. It was surprisingly steady. "I think you don't understand what-"

Jackson didn't seem to notice April and continued speaking to his mother, "You still didn't have to push this! You don't have to go after Grey Sloan Memorial."

"I'm not going after anyone," Catherine replied stiffly. "I am protecting the foundation's interests. We can't be associated with a sub-par institution. Grey Sloan Memorial needs us. Not the other way around. That is a fact. You and April don't even need to be here."

Jackson glared into his tablet screen, "You want to pull the rug out from under our hospital and you don't think we need to be here?  _We_  work here! And even if we didn't, April and I have the right to vote. The Harper Avery Foundation is a family foundation, right mom? Isn't that what you are always telling me? My wife is my family."

The words gave Catherine a moment of pause that April didn't quite understand. For herself, April felt her husband's words ran deeper. Because they were more than a couple now. They really  _were_ a family. As long as the baby growing inside of her had a heartbeat they were a unit all and of themselves. She'd realized that she really didn't want to ever lose that.

Only April couldn't really control the outcome.

Board meetings, it turned out, (even emergency ones) could be very heated affairs. Overwhelming even for a seasoned trauma surgeon. (And no place for any 15 year old, as far as she was concerned.) April and Jackson's weren't the only people at the meeting who opposed defunding Grey Sloan Memorial. What followed was a verbal boxing match that would have made April's head spin, if she'd actually been in the board room with Catherine Avery and the 14 other board members. Or maybe that dizzy feeling she felt was because she was pregnant. Or maybe it was because she was contaminated.

April couldn't really tell.

And then of course there were the moments in the debate when all the attention turned to her and Jackson. He did brilliantly, strangely at ease with it all, but also visibly irritated.

" _Of course_  Yang is mad," Jackson rolled his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall behind him in exasperation. " _Of course_  she is appealing! We should not penalize a whole hospital for a situation we created! What kind of an organization does that? Is this the kind of organization we want to be?"

When it was her turn to speak, April felt less confident. It all felt like a test. Like one of those oral exams you took in medical school. Only this time she wasn't prepared and she wasn't ready. She could just  _feel_  the whole board staring at her. It must have been obvious to them that April had never taken part in any sort of foundation proceeding before. They were all clearly people of a certain world. The kind of world Catherine and Jackson knew well.

April felt distinctly out of place. And different. And guilty. For all she had a need to feel busy, in an instant April felt ill. Maybe she  _shouldn't_  try to distract herself. Maybe she  _should_ be allowing her emotions to fall into the never ending pit of despair and worry over her unborn child. Maybe she was being a bad mother all over again.

The bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard. On her tablet screen she saw Jackson turn his head to look at her through the quarantine window. Even in profile, she saw the concern in his face. But then, as quickly as it had vanished, April found her voice again, even though it was a tad shaky.

"I-I," she stammered, electing to look everywhere but her ipad screen. "I don't think it was right to nominate Cristina Yang for the Harper Avery Award if you..uh, if the foundation already knew there was no chance for her to win. That's not fair."

When April glanced back to her tablet screen, Catherine was pursing her lips and watching intently. Even thousands of miles away April could practically feel the woman's gaze.

"And," April continued. "If the surgeons of a hospital funded by the Harper Avery Foundation can never win in the first place, then why even nominate them? I think the foundation should be upfront about that..."

Catherine huffed, "Cristina Yang is an it girl. Her work with 3D printing? That  _is_  revolutionary. Now that she's left Grey Sloan she could easily garner another nomination for the Harper Avery Award. And no doubt this time, she'll win. There was no reason to throw away that kind publicity!"

"But that publicity doesn't make it right!"

"Shows how prepared you are to be a member of this organization, honey," her mother in law chastised gently. "Right and wrong go out the window. What's  _best_  is all that matters."

"What's best?" April felt her hackles rise. "What's best for who?"

For the first time in days, she saw a true smile flash across her husband's face. He always seemed to like it when April lost control and let out the thoughts she held in. When it wasn't directed at him anyway. Jackson believed in her.

Unwilling to allow Catherine to get a word in edgewise, April began to count down in her fingers, "Defunding Grey Sloan wouldn't benefit Seattle. It wouldn't benefit the patients we serve. Or the physicians who work here. This place is more than a hospital. It's been a family to us. I trust this place to take care of me..."

She swallowed hard and and held back the onslaught of tears that always came when she thought about or had to speak about her pregnancy. It wasn't exactly the way she'd hoped to share the news of her pregnancy with her mother in law, but then again, this wasn't exactly turning out to be the pregnancy she'd hoped to have. And this was the only thing she could think of that could possibly sway Catherine's mind. Because if something did turn out to be wrong with her child (and she knew that the possibility was very high at this point), there was only one place she could imagine treating her baby.

"I trust this place to take care of me and your future grandchild."

That stopped Catherine Avery dead in her tracks, as an expression of wonder and worry took over her features. Turned out April could do something after all. And that carried over to more than just her mother in law. Her outburst pretty much stunned the rest of the board into silence as well. And at the end of the meeting the votes to keep funding Grey Sloan came in at 9 to 8.

Very tight, but April was willing to count it as a win. At this point, she was happy when anything went her way.

* * *

The weeks following the big Harper Avery vote went by in a blur for April. She realized she was probably in shock. Jackson too. He was quiet. Too quiet. They let her go home after a week of testing free of chemicals. She was the second to last of the contaminated staff to be allowed to go home.

Bokhee pulled through. Murphy didn't.

April cried into Jackson's shoulder the first night she was home as they sat on the couch of their darkened apartment. And for many nights to follow, as soon as they came home from work. Those first few days back home were stilted for them. Filled with the kind of silences of people who are in shock. And confusion. Neither Jackson nor April knew if it was okay to be happy she was home and on the mend. Neither of them knew how frightened they should be about their baby. So for a while there were only tears and silences in the Avery apartment.

Some things felt better left unsaid. Some questions unasked.

At first all of this, the marriage, the baby, all of it had seemed to be going so quickly. Even though Jackson and April had found a way to be happy about their little surprise, she'd worried that things were moving too fast.

Now she longed for the time mere weeks earlier then  _that_  had been her biggest worry.

The sob sessions generally followed the same conversational format.

"I'm so sorry, Jackson."

Jackson always kissed the top of her head and pulled April close, "You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"You don't hate me?"

"I love you."

Even after an inconclusive amniocentesis, they still had no conclusive information about the health of their baby, aside from the fact that his tiny heart was still beating. The test had revealed that the baby was a boy but Jackson and April weren't really able to find the normal joy in that. She was afraid to risk another invasive procedure. The CDC doctor told them that any problems caused by the radiation exposure would likely not be evident until later in the pregnancy, if April chose to proceed. Some problems might not even become diagnosable until well after the child was born.

If he survived.

That said, the CDC doctor did have a pretty clear idea of what there was worry about, and both Jackson and April knew enough about fetal development to know some of those possibilities themselves. The baby could have problems with facial deformities, eyes, lung development, and bone development. The OB was particularly worried about bone formation, and more specifically rib cage development and adequate lung space, based on the stage of fetal development, and the timing of April's exposure.

Odds to odds, there was a strong possibility this baby would have problems with his lungs. And you needed lungs to live.

Over dinner during April's third week home, Jackson started asking the questions they'd been unwilling to face. Saying things that both of them didn't want to hear. Everything April was afraid to talk about. By the middle of the discussion, pulling them into the kinds of conversations that revealed just how different they both really were.

"We really need to consider all the possibilities here, April," Jackson said in frustration after April tried to divert this thread of the conversation again and again. "Even the ones you don't want to think about."

April swallowed heard and looked down at her plate, unable to hold his gaze. The  _way_  Jackson looked at her. She could tell he was torn up inside. Gutted by the situation. Gutted for what he as suggesting.

"I don't know," she mumbled finally. "I guess I am just hoping and praying for the best..."

Jackson set down his fork and held his head in his hands, "What if this turns out to be the worst case scenario? What if he has no lungs? Dr. Gordon said that there is a possibility of that."

"He also said lung problems could just as easily be less severe. The baby might just have smaller lungs..."

Dr. Gordon had no real answers. This wasn't some genetic problem that could be detected by looking at DNA. It wasn't an inherited disease that could be picked up on an ultrasound. In spite of all her rampant feelings of guilt, April preferred to air on the side of optimism. She had faith. Or at least, she was trying to.

"The amnio was inconclusive," Jackson reasoned.

April shot back, "They can be sometimes. Even in normal pregnancies."

"But what if it  _is_  the worst case, April? Say he is born with no lungs? How much suffering would the baby go through? How much suffering would  _you_  go through?Or me? We'd end up watching him die."

"I'm not going to terminate," she shook her head, hand instinctively moving to her rounded belly. "If that's what you're suggesting, Jackson! I don't think I can."

She knew they had different views on the subject, but April also knew that even if she'd had different personal beliefs all along, she was already too far into this to get an abortion. Her body was changing so much. She had trouble fitting into certain pants. She had sonogram pictures that depicted something recognizably baby like. She craved odd things like turnips and peanut butter.

She'd heard heartbeats. Maybe things would be different for April if there was no heart beating.

Jackson sighed, "I've always been pro choice. I always thought that woman's body was hers and so the decision should be hers. But..."

"But?" April snapped, pointing her finger at him across the table. "But what? No buts!"

"But you have to understand that it's not just about you, April! And it's not just about me-"

April crossed her arms, "I never said it was!"

"Will you let me finish?" her husband said firmly. "What if he is just really sick? How are we going to handle raising a sick child? What kind of life do we want for our son? We're both doctors, we know how bad it can be. Are we willing to subject our child to a life of pain? Dr. Gordon said there is a 65% percent chance that the baby might need long term breathing assistance. He might never be able to breathe on his own."

April scowled. Jackson was using statistics. He knew how much she loved them.

"There is also a 35% chance he will be able to breathe on his own with no long term assistance."

"April! The statistics are not in our favor."

Tears welled in April's eyes, "I know!"

"You are basically opposed to termination under any circumstances? I mean, late term abortions exist for a reason. We're not talking about an accident or mistake that two people want to forget about. This is about parents making the best medical decision for the health of a baby who might have a terrible quality of life. I don't want my son to have a short painful life, just because we can't make a difficult choice."

"Jackson!"

What her husband did next sent tears rolling down April's cheeks, but it also made her blood boil.

Jackson rolled his eyes and slammed his fist to the table in frustration, "So, our child has to suffer just because his mother in is devout Christian?"

Back to the same old argument.

Since leaving Moline, April had always shied away from describing herself as devout. It wasn't a label that non believers really seemed to see in a positive light. People hear devout and they make assumptions you and shut you out. April was already shut out enough. That was a huge part of the reason why she'd first hidden her faith upon moving to Seattle.

"Shut up!"

April scooted back her chair and retreated into their bed room, flopping on to the bed and sobbing into her pillow. He was doing it again. Making her feel like he was patronizing her silly beliefs. Patronizing her for daring to want to keep carrying the baby boy she already loved. Worst of all, Jackson's words confirmed the truth that April already knew. She was a terrible mother. She was the reason her son might be sick. She was the reason he might feel pain.

Her and no on else.

Following hot in her heels, Jackson groaned and held his head in his hands, "I'm sorry! April, I didn't mean that. I really didn't"

"Then why did you say it?"

She felt the bed dip, taking on his weight as he sat on the corner of the bed, but didn't turn to look at him.

Jackson sighed, and spoke with a voice almost as thick as hers, "I don't know. I'm just...I guess I'm just mad at the situation."

April laughed humorlessly, "Join the club."

He seemed to take her statement literally and laid down on the bed next to April, placing his head on the other end of the pillow and watching her with tearful eyes. After a long silence Jackson spoke.

"I had to ask, April...about terminating and stuff. Because we have to be sure. While there is still time for us to make a choice. We have to be sure we can do this."

"For me there isn't a choice," April shook her head. "For me there never was..."

Jackson sighed and closed his eyes, "Okay...then I guess...I guess that's the plan. We'll-we'll handle this. Whatever comes."

She reached out her hand and laced her fingers through his, seeing the pain she felt echoed in Jackson's elegant features. April had dreamed of having children all of her life. It's what Kepner women did. Have babies. She'd imagined telling her husband in oh so many cutesy ways. That didn't happen. She'd imagined having a beautiful baby shower with her mother and sisters. That wasn't going to happen, because April didn't think she could make it through such an affair without a complete and total mental breakdown. She'd imagined taking in all of her child's first milestones. Walking, talking, school, graduations and everything in between.

Now there was a very strong possibility that those things would never happen too.

April squeezed her husband's hand, "You know, you and my faith are probably the only things holding me together right now. Like literally, without it I think I might be in a straight jacket. I just...I believe God has a plan for us, Jackson."

She  _had_  to believe God had a plan. Even if that plan was to give this tiny soul growing inside of her life for only short while.

Her husband opened his eyes and shook his head, "Why would your God want us to suffer like that? Why would He want the baby to suffer?"

"We don't know that he will."

Jackson turned to face the ceiling, "We don't know anything for sure."

"We do know some things," April countered carefully. "I love our son and I know you do too."

"Well, yeah."

"What better parents to give a sick child to, than a pair of surgeons?" God didn't make mistakes, even if April hated him for it.

Her husband sighed in frustration and continued to stare upwards. Clearly the sentiment didn't give him nearly as much comfort as it gave her.

Jackson didn't get it. And how could he? April was beginning to understand more and more that Jackson really did perceive the world in a completely different way from her. It was no wonder it felt like they were speaking a completely different language sometimes. They may as well have been. April closed her eyes, letting her hand move gently across her pregnant belly as she tried to think about this in the same way that her husband might.

"Even if," she began tentatively. "Even if God and religion was only a figment of the mind, not...not real...It's still something that is present across all cultures and civilizations right? Even if not all people have faith, it's part of societies in general, right?"

"Right."

"So it's a part of evolution. There's a reason it's there. Religions  _evolved_  to make people feel better."

Jackson almost chuckled, "Hell of an adaptation..."

A faint smile graced April's face as well, "Yeah, but it's an adaptation that gets people through hard times. And it's not the only adaptation that helps with that, right? We've got a whole bunch. Religion, resilience, grief, law, comfort food. All kinds of things. I mean, it shows just how far human beings can go to survive something terrible."

"Human beings can get through some terrible things," Jackson agreed, sounding pensive.

April turned to snuggled closer to her husband, adding tearfully, "And doesn't that mean  _we_ can go pretty far to survive something terrible?"

"What do you mean? You can use faith and religion and I can lean on deep dish pizza and science?" Jackson joked.

"Maybe..."

Her husband wrapped his arms around April and held her close, leaning his chin against the top of her head, and whispering, "I don't actually know if I can survive this."

"Me neither," April admitted. "I mean, I think I can. I think  _we_  can. I think we can get though this together. But don't know for sure. I just have to try to hold on and have the faith that we-Oh!"

Her hand quickly moved back to her stomach, as she lost her train of thought, totally distracted by the strange sensations of movement in her abdomen. He was moving! Their baby was moving! The feeling was distinct and where there were moments in the past when April had wondered whether she felt her child moving or if she was misidentifying a case of gas, in this moment, for the first time, she knew for certain that this feeling was her child.

"He's kicking! Or...moving...or something. I can feel him."

April quickly placed Jackson's hand over the spot and they both waited eagerly for the movement to come again. For the first time in weeks all their fears and worries melted away and they were both completely present in the moment. Waiting for their son to move again.

"There!" April announced when she felt the flutter again with a giggle. "Did you feel that?"

Jackson watched her lovingly, "It's probably too a little too early. But I can feel you laughing. It's been a while since I've seen you do that..."

There was one more flutter and April sighed in awe, "It feels so weird."

"He probably doesn't like us fighting," her husband explained in a goofy voice, moving down so he could speak with her rounded abdomen. "Is that your game little guy? We're sorry. We probably should stop talking about you like you're not even here. Your Daddy hates that too..."

April sniffed and wiped fresh tears from her eyes as she listened to Jackson talk to their unborn baby. One dream she'd had about becoming a parent had actually come true. And even though the circumstances of the pregnancy hadn't changed at all, from that moment on, as soon as April felt her baby move, it was like a cloud had lifted.

The remaining weeks and months of April's pregnancy went by in a whirlwind. Since she was considered to be extremely high risk, Owen had her on admin and teaching duty, and reduced shifts. Which gave her plenty of time to indulge in the nesting instinct that came to her in full force during the latter half of her pregnancy. A rather dangerous perk of being married to an Avery was that deliriously high credit limit.

However, it was hard to prepare for a baby you weren't sure would ever come home. 

Both Jackson and April both spent a lot of time doing spare rotations in the NICU, and talking to other parents of sick children trying to learn as much as they could about what lay ahead for them and how they might cope if the most dire of their OB's concerns actually came to be. They learned as much as they could about what probably lay ahead. But by the time April was nearing the end of her long labor, that didn't feel like it was nearly enough.

Bearing down, April gripped Jackson's hand tightly and whimpered, "Oh God!"

"Okay April, we need one more big push," their OB encouraged from the other end of the bed. "Your baby is almost here."

"Prep the incubator," Arizona instructed her team on the other side of the room. She'd assembled her best residents and nurses, and brought along all the most advanced life saving equipment for distressed newborns. They were ready for the birth of her son, but April was not.

"I can't...I-"

She wasn't crying because of the pain. Okay. Well, she was, but only a little. Giving birth hurt. She was mostly crying because she was terrified. Because she'd also always imagined that the birth of her child would end with a screaming, wriggling baby being placed in her arms, and right now she knew that was probably not going to be a reality. And for all her faith in God's plan, April was exhausted and emotionally worn out, and she honestly had no idea how she would face the silence.

In the hazy logic of late stage labor, holding him in seemed like a great idea for keeping her son alive. Even if it tore April apart.

Then she heard Jackson's voice speaking calmly into her ear, "You can do this. I know you can."

Breathing heavily, April leaned her head back and closed her eyes, taking one final moment to collect herself and to send out a quick prayer, before she gave one final push.

Please don't let him be dead. Please don't let her baby be dead.

And really, if April didn't already believe in God, what happened the next moment would sway any doubts. Because even though her dream of a crying baby didn't materialize. The nightmare everyone had been trying to prepare her for? The sound of silence and death?

It wasn't there either.

After a burst of splitting pain, April heard her baby. He was wheezing and gurgling. Clearly it was a struggle, but he was definitely breathing. Definitely alive. April turned to Jackson with wide eyes. He still held her hand, but all of his focus was on their tiny son as the OB and Arizona quickly examined him. The baby was immediately handed off to the NICU team and placed into an incubator. It all happened so quickly. April got a quick glimpse of thick black hair and that was it.

"We'll take good care of him," Arizona called out as she wheeled the incubator out of April's room. "I promise."

Suddenly feeling a crushing sense of emptiness, April buried her face in Jackson's neck and sobbed. Dreams were so very fragile. 


	4. Chapter 4

_The Grand Bargain_

Catherine and Harper Avery were in the middle of a major budgeting meeting when her phone buzzed across the table.

Normally, she had a rule that banned phone use by all board members during even standard meetings because distractions would only slow the work down. She didn't want to preside over a meeting (especially not one as important as budget planning for the fiscal year) where she looked out to find a table full of board member's fiddling with their smart phones.

For one thing, most of the old fools (the budget committee was mostly Harper's age group) didn't even know how to use the damn gadgets.

But in this case, Catherine would allow an exception. It was her son's name that came up on the caller id after all, and she knew that her daughter in law had been in labor for most of the previous night.

Grabbing the phone and quickly excusing herself from the room, Catherine rushed into the hallway and held the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Mom!" Jackson anxiously answered. In the background she could clearly hear the sound of April sobbing uncontrollably.

Catherine's heart plummeted to the floor and she feared the worst. The baby had probably been stillborn. It wasn't like she hadn't known that it was a possibility from almost the very moment she was informed that she was going to have a grandchild. His brief exposure to toxic chemicals through his mother treating a patient had impacted her grandson's lung development. Maintaining the pregnancy at all was a risky move, but not surprising in someone who was pro life, such as April. Catherine isn't sure what she would have done in the same circumstance.

Catherine had mostly joined Jackson and April in their optimistic and hopeful stance throughout the remainder of the pregnancy, but a small part of her had always feared the worst.

Which also made Catherine angry.

All of this because Richard and everyone at that  _damned_  hospital couldn't avoid having yet another catastrophic event? Catherine had all but convinced herself that the place was a lemon, a bad investment even, despite what her son and other board members felt. Between explosions and shootings, bus explosions and chemical contamination, not to mention  _plane crashes_  it seemed as though Grey Sloan Memorial only brought pain, suffering, and death to it's own physicians.

And now to their innocent unborn children as well.

No other hospital Catherine had ever encountered, and certainly no hospital that the Harper Avery Foundation had ever been associated with had a similar track record. Jackson and April might have swayed the board vote in favor of continuing to fund Grey Sloan Memorial, but the matter was still not closed for Catherine Avery.

She was not ready to forgive. Or to forget. And frankly, she didn't understand Jackson and April's attachment to the place at all.

"What happened?" she asked, trying to hide the lump that was already forming in the back of her throat as she thought of her son and daughter in law and the pain they must be feeling.

Her poor babies.

"Uh," Jackson's voice wavered, but not in the way Catherine might have expected. "He's here, Mom. He's here and he's alive. Seven and a half pounds! Lots of hair..."

He almost laughed then, clearly feeling some pride and joy in becoming a father. For a split second she forgot the situation almost laughed with him. The words took Catherine's breath away. She was a grandmother!

"Oh, my! Congratulations, honey."

"It's a bit shaky though," Jackson's weary voice continued. "He's in the NICU. We didn't get to see him too much before they took him back. He is having breathing problems..."

Catherine winced as April's tearful voice cut into the phone call, "He was gray! And you could hear him trying so h-hard to breathe. It's all my fault-"

If that wasn't the sound of anguish...

A lump came to Catherine's throat as her daughter in law's panicky sentence dissolved into a sob and she heard her son's voice drop into a whisper as he spoke to his wife, "Hey...hey, it's not your fault, April. You did great. Right now he's alive, okay?"

For the time being anyway. That was some comfort.

The conversation quickly finished, with Catherine promising to fly out to Seattle that very evening on the very first flight she could find. It was clear that the new parents were emotionally worn out and frightened. She could tell that Jackson was doing the best he could (and a damned fine job at that) to support April, but Catherine also knew that he'd need someone there to support him, even if he'd never ask for it. Jackson needed his family.

Walking briskly back into the board room, Catherine announced, "This meeting is adjourned, we'll resume at a later date. Harper and I need to go to Seattle. My assistant Henry will be in touch with your assistants to reschedule another meeting that fits into your calendars within the coming weeks. Sorry for the inconvenience."

As the other board members filed out of the room, Catherine watched her father in law's expression closely. The man remained almost completely still, leaning back in his chair and spinning his pen between his fingers. Her eyes narrowed at his lack of reaction or concern over what he knew must be going on.

"She's delivered then?" Harper asked finally, once the room was empty. "A living infant?"

Tilting her head to one side, Catherine crossed her arms, " _April_  did, yes. A living baby. He's got severe breathing difficulties."

Harper had been as unhappy to hear about Jackson and April's abrupt marriage as anyone (with the possibly the one exception being April's abandoned fiance), and he had not softened much on the subject in the ensuing months. Unlike Catherine, who'd known April Kepner for years, Harper was not familiar with her or the friendship between her and Jackson that formed the foundation of their whole relationship before they fell in love. Instead, he continued to view the whole thing as another embarrassing scandal for the Avery family and a poor decision on the part if his grandson. As such, he seemed to have very little interest in getting to know his granddaughter in law at all. Especially when Harper found out about April's humble background and chosen surgical specialty.

Catherine had only heard the man say the poor girl's name twice and she'd just about had it with him. She too had come from humble beginnings and she'd done just fine in Harper's world. Better in fact than his own son, a  _real_  Avery.

Harper overlooked the emphasis she'd placed on April's name and nodded, "You think it's really necessary that the both of us fly out to Seattle?"

"For your great grandson? For someone who might well grow up and replace you in the very chair you sit? Honey, of course that's a yes!"

The old man didn't react to her outburst and continued to handle his pen carefully. "The child is very ill?"

Catherine sighed, "The doctors are still working to learn about his exact diagnosis. He is in the neonatal intensive care unit in critical condition."

"Then it's not very likely that he will make it here, is it?" Harper used his pen to waive around the boardroom offhandedly.

Catherine scowled. Much as she hated to admit it, Harper had a point. Her grandson's health was very precarious. He could very easily pass away at any moment, and even if he didn't, it was unclear as to whether the uncertainty of his situation would fade in time. He could be just as fragile years from now. She had no idea what his future looked like. But the Avery legacy would likely not be his.

"Perhaps it's best not to get too attached."

While she understood the man's sobering point, hearing her father in law speak in this way made Catherine's temper flare. "Harper!"

She knew that Harper was not the most sentimental man and she knew that he didn't end up that way easily. Julian Avery was the only one of Harper's children to survive into adulthood, but he was not the only child of Elizabeth and Harper Avery to be born. Before Julian, there had been a daughter, Annalise. But she'd died of polio when Julian was an infant and no matter how much of a member of the Avery family she'd become, neither Elizabeth nor Harper had never opened up about the loss with Catherine.

All there was left was a few faded pictures of a beautiful toddler and a rag doll Harper kept in his desk at home.

"Have they named him yet?"

"Yes," Catherine nodded, glad to hear what sounded like more genuine curiosity in the old man's voice. "Conner Joseph Avery."

"Joseph," Harper mused quietly, looking vaguely wistful. "After the other grandfather, yes? The farmer. Better Joseph than Julian, I suppose."

"Harper," she prodded gently, as her impatience grew. "We need to hire a plane and  _go._ Jackson and April need us. Little Mr. Conner needs us. We have to go to Seattle. There...there might not be much time."

"Since the situation is that serious," the old man seemed to close down and turned his chair around, facing away from Catherine. "I can imagine you may wish to stay in Seattle a while, in which case, I think it's best that I stay here. The budget meeting is too important to be postponed for long, and then there is the bio-pharmecuical meeting already on the books for next week..."

In a sense, Harper had lost both of his children. The Harper Avery Foundation was the only 'baby' he still had.

"Harper..."

He rested his chin on his hands and became pensive, "You're going to be mad at me aren't you?"

"Frankly," Catherine shook her head in disbelief. "I'm about to be royally pissed at you."

"I'll survive," the old man said smiling sadly. "I always do."

Catherine sighed in disappointment. She'd known the man for years, and it was rare that Harper disappointed her. But this was a mistake. He would likely miss his first great grandchild's entire life. He was choosing the Foundation over his family. And that made her mad.

Whatever loss the man had experienced in the past, holding in his pain had done Harper no favors. Harper liked to act as though he was so much better than Julian could ever measure up to. He was smart, ambitious, charismatic, and responsible. Except for the times when he weren't. Catherine had known the old man long enough to learn that Harper could be just as foolish as Julian. And as much as she wanted Harper to join her in Seattle, Catherine knew it was hard to make Avery men things they were not ready for. She couldn't  _make_  him go, even if it was the right thing to do. He was the one who needed to figure that out.

But in this moment, Harper was abandoning Jackson as much as Julian had. And Catherine would never forget that.

Her feelings of frustration and anger over the situation and Harper's response had not faded at all by the time Catherine arrived in Seattle later that anything, it had heightened. Arriving in the lobby of Grey Sloan Memorial, she rolled her eyes as she cast around for  _someone_  to help direct her to her family. But of course the way the place was run it might take hours for them to even notice her presence.

She'd just reached the main lobby when a familiar voice reached her ears, "Oh! Dr. Avery! You're here."

Catherine blinked in surprise as Owen Hunt appeared by her side, along with a short rather dowdy looking woman who kept dabbing tears from her eyes.

"You're just in time," the Chief of Surgery explained hurriedly as he reached a hand to her back and guided both women toward the nearest elevator. "I was just about to take Mrs. Kepner up to see Avery and April as well..."

The man seemed not to realize that this was actually the first time she'd ever encountered Karen Kepner. Catherine's eyes grew wide as she made brief eye contact with her grandson's  _other_  grandmother. She had no idea what the other woman might think about Catherine or Jackson. She had a vague sense that April's family had initially been suspicious of her marriage, but Catherine supposed that was all beside the point now. She knew that it would be good for her daughter in law to have the other woman around for this. As much as Catherine knew that Jackson needed her, April needed her own mother.

Sometimes you just needed your Mama.

Thinking of her new grandson, brand new to the world Conner, all boxed in in some plastic incubator in the NICU, away from his mother, father, and family, Catherine shook her head. Life sustaining as the technology may be, it wasn't the first experience she'd have picked for a grandchild of hers to ever need. Catherine could only hope that the world of the incubator would not be the boy's  _only_  life experience.

Karen had a pleasantly familiar round face, with a prominent chin, and her cropped brown hair was laced with gray strands. She looked about as weary and apprehensive as Catherine felt. Sensing scrutiny, the smaller woman stood up a little straighter, looking away to face Owen.

"Is there any news, Dr. Hunt?" Karen asked anxiously as the elevator moved upwards.

The ginger man looked a little pained and tilted his head to one side, "Well, Dr. Robbins has put your grandson on supplemental oxygen, which has really helped. She's running a series diagnostic tests right now so we hope to understand more about his condition, and get him stable enough to have visitors...soon."

The elevator dinged as it reached it's destination, silver doors opening up to reveal an almost relentlessly cheerful maternity ward. Catherine's eyes had narrowed as Owen described the medical treatment Conner was receiving. She couldn't quite trust the place. She followed closely as Hunt led them out of the elevator and down the hall. It felt as though they'd sequestered Jackson and April off, far away from the happier rooms on the maternity floor.

Catherine became more irritated as every room they passed seemed to be filled with happy couples and healthy babies. This  _damned_  place.

"April is still pretty shook up; she won't sleep. Avery's been trying to get her to calm down, but..." Hunt continued glancing back at Catherine as they moved toward her daughter in law's room. "As you can imagine, it's a little difficult. He's pretty shaken up too, Dr. Avery."

The pained expression on Owen's face gave Catherine a moment of pause. It seemed like he was really invested in all of this. Catherine and Karen exchanged quick glances as they neared their children's room.

Karen reached out and squeezed her hand, "Is this your first grandchild?"

Surprised, for a moment all Catherine could do was stare, fumbling for an answer (and she absolutely  _hated_  to fumble). It seemed like Karen was trying to offer comfort. Catherine wasn't usually the kind of person who needed comforting.

"Yes," she swallowed, watching as Owen approached a closed door. "This little man is my first. And this is your...?"

The shorter woman smiled wistfully, "He's my 8th."

Catherine's eyes grew wide, "Ah. How-how nice."

"Usually, it's a lot more fun than this..." Karen sighed as a tear fell from the corner of her eye. "I just pray to God he'll pull through..."

The open door revealed a sight that brought tears to Catherine's own eyes and swept away most of the anger and frustrated she'd held onto moments before. Inside the room she saw her son and daughter in law. Jackson sat perched on April's bed, with his arms wrapped around April's shoulders as she sobbed into her hands rocking back and forth. Catherine could tell she was pale and drawn and her heart went out to April as much as her son. Jackson looked like he was at his wit's end.

"It might be better if you let them give you a sedative," he reasoned wearily.

She didn't halt her motions and shook her head emphatically, "No! I can't."

"April, you've been awake for 33 hours," Jackson pleaded. " _I've_  been awake for 33 hours. You just gave birth. You need to rest. There's nothing we can really do right now for Conner but wait..."

"I'm afraid if I close my eyes he'll die!" April's eyes were wide and panicked. "My baby will die and he'd never know I loved him. He'd never know anything but feeling like he can't breathe. He'll just...be  _gone_  and I'll never see him again-"

The girl went drifted off into an incomprehensible ramble that brought tears to Karen's eyes. Hunt cleared his throat, making Jackson at least aware of their presence. He looked up at Catherine as soon as Hunt led them into the room, appearing more frightened than she'd seen him since he was a little boy.

"Oh, baby," Catherine held open her arms for Jackson when he rose and walked over to her. He held her tight and didn't let go.

April didn't react much to their arrival, and Karen approached her daughter's bed carefully. She climbed into the bed, and that seemed to be enough to pull April out of her rambles. She cuddled into her mother's embrace and the two of them seemed to break into some sort of prayer. Catherine shook her head and held Jackson close.

And so they all cried for a while. Catherine wasn't too proud to admit it. Even Hunt, still hovering in the doorway, sniffled and wiped the corner of his eyes.

"Mom..." Jackson said thickly, blinking back tears. "I don't know if I can do this. I can't-I'm not cut out to be a father and he's so sick and April is...and I can't take care of everything-"

Her boy was not a crier. He never had been, even when he was young and even when he most definitely had good reason to. When Jackson fell off of his bike learning to ride, and scraped his knees? He set his jaw and tried again. When he took a foul in basketball game? He didn't let his emotions overtake his concentration and scored the next winning basket. When he lost his best friend in a shooting? Jackson worked to get approved for surgery and went back to work.

Catherine knew her son. It wasn't very often that he was vulnerable to his mother.

She reached out and held Jackson's face in both her hands, shushing him and offering words she hoped he could draw strength from, "You are Jackson Avery. You are good man. You are a better man than your father  _and_  your grandfather, you will be a better father and you can do this. You are already doing this brilliantly, and your Mama is proud of you. And here for you. You and April are not alone."

She glanced over to the bed, making eye contact with Karen and lifting her hand in a rallying gesture, "Right?"

Holding April closer, and pressing a kiss to her daughter's head, the other woman nodded, "Right. We're here for you both. And God is always with all of us. He's with Conner right now. And whatever path you three have to go down, He'll hold you in the palm of His hand."

Catherine blinked. That wasn't exactly the line of reassurance she'd been going for.

"Um...well, that's certainly one way to think about it," she demurred carefully, not having much desire to create a stir.

Her pep talk must have worked a bit because Jackson sniffed, and for a brief moment looked at his mother in amusement.

She supposed she now understood some of what it must be like for him to live with someone who was very religious. As a girl growing up in Texas, Catherine was not unfamiliar with the 'church going' masses. Growing up, she'd sat through her own share of severe sermons (and she'd been damned pleased as an adult not to continue going). Her own parents had been devout Baptists. Her sister Caroline  _still_  was. It was just one of of the many reasons why the Fox sisters didn't get along.

Catherine became a woman of science. She felt as though her accomplishments, and the accomplishments of humanity did not have to be guided by a greater being. People changed the world. Intelligence and tenacity drove progress. Science and medicine saved lives. People had the power, not some unseen deity. She'd always found that religion confined people (Caroline being the prime example) and science could set you free (her own life had demonstrated that). The only thing about April's marriage to her son that made Catherine worry was the girl's beliefs.

Perhaps Jackson was just better at compromising.

April finally spoke coherently, wiping her nose with one hand, "We should...we should get the hospital chaplain. He should see Conner. Christen him...just in case-just in case he..."

Chief Hunt seemed willing to do anything for April, and disappeared down the hallway looking for the chaplain almost as soon as the request was uttered, while Jackson and Catherine exchanged dubious glances. Karen and April clearly thought it was a good idea.

 _Necessary_  even.

Catherine wasn't so sure. And judging by the indecision in her son's eyes, she suspected Jackson wasn't so certain either. For her own part, Catherine didn't really want any grandchild of hers officially initiated into any faith tradition, until they were good and old enough to make their own decision. She wasn't comfortable with the idea of her grandchild having no say in the matter. Then again, she'd never really considered having a grandchild who might not live long enough to grow up and choose for themselves.

Little Conner might not have the luxury.

Jackson seemed to be thinking along those lines too because he watched his wife closely, "Would having Conner blessed make you feel better?"

"I'm sorry," April mumbled looking away from both Avery's. "I know...I know you don't want that..."

"April, look at me," Jackson made his way over to the side of April's bed and took hold of her hand "Would it help you rest?"

It was clear to Catherine that some sort of unspoken communication passed between her son and his wife just then. She wasn't privy to it's meaning, but she'd been young and in love once too. She knew what it looked like. April's gaze darted back to her husband, and Jackson's eyes softened and it was like they'd said a thousand things without uttering a single word.

Damn it. Catherine knew in that moment that a baptism was a done deal. But she held her tongue.

April rested her head on her mother's shoulder, closing her red rimmed eyes and nodding slowly. Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced at his mother apprehensively. She could tell that he didn't exactly feel comfortable with the idea, but at the same time he seemed desperate to find some sort of peace in his family. For his wife. For himself. For his child.

Jackson sighed, and squeezed his wife's hand, "Okay...then, that's what we'll do."

Catherine sighed, and joined her family by perching on the edge of her daughter in law's hospital bed. She couldn't really blame her son, no matter how much she disagreed with the choice. At least Jackson, unlike his father and his grandfather, was here to make a choice related to his son's future and well being.

However, Catherine couldn't hep but remember what her father always said about compromise. It was a good umbrella, but a poor roof. It wasn't a lasting fix. She realized that in a time like this, there might not really be a need for a long term solution. After all, there was no guarantee that Conner Avery would live long enough for a christening to make any difference at all in the grand scheme of things.

But Catherine also vowed that it would not make a difference either way. If Conner lived, she was bound and determined that he should be a man of science. Like his father. And grandmother. And great grandfather. As much as  _any_  Avery. Catherine loved April, but she couldn't allow the woman to be the reason that her family took a step back into the imprecise world of superstition and faith. The medical world was moving faster than that, and the Harper Avery Foundation was at the apex of that progress. Both the foundation and family fabric were already frayed enough. Adding religion in was too much of a risk.

And if little Conner did survive, Catherine knew it would have nothing to do with God. And  _nothing_  to do with Richard's damn hospital.

Conner was an Avery. And Averys were strong. Hopefully that would be enough.

* * *

A tiny pair of hands tugged at the corners of Catherine's tablet.

"Gramma! You work too much time!" her 5 year old grandson said, happily. "Whatcha doing?"

She turned to face the boy, beaming as she met his earnest gaze. Conner's round face was all cheeks and grins, as he stood wrapped in a towel, still damp from his nightly therapy swim with his father. Jackson followed closely behind, also clad in swim trunks and a towel.

"I am looking at candidates for this year's foundation awards, honey," Catherine explained calmly. "Want to see?"

Jackson huffed and brushed past her, "You're supposed to be on vacation."

"I wanna see!" Conner exclaimed happily trying to see Catherine's work and nearly tripping over his wet feet on the hard wood floor of the apartment.

Catherine laughed as he caught himself. Jackson grinned too. Her grandson brought her such joy. It was hard to imagine how many tears accompanied this delightful young man's birth. It was hard to understand just how much fear and uncertainty surrounded him at the time. Now, Conner was a bundle of energy and adventure and  _life_ , that is seemed almost impossible to reconcile with the memory that his early infancy was full of grief and worry and the fear of  _death_.

The first time Catherine had met Conner, three full days after his birth, he'd been in the neonatal intensive care unit. A giant among the NICU preemies. He'd been awake and struggling, pulling at his oxygen tubes, each rise and fall of his chest, a clear battle for air. At the same time, Catherine had also sensed determination in the little man. Because when she'd gazed at his incubator, Conner had looked right back at her. His color had been a little off due to diminished oxygen, but Conner was strong.

His problems had stemmed from an oddly shaped rib cage, an underdeveloped diaphragm and malformed intercostal muscles. Conner's chest cavity didn't have enough space for his lungs to expand easily and the muscles that controlled his breathing didn't have the strength to keep the breathing cycle going without assistance those early days. Fortunately immediate intervention and the use of supplemental oxygen had prevented any deprivation related brain damage. A series of surgeries repaired some of the problem and constant attention to strengthening his breathing had allowed the boy to recover and thrive.

Th specialists said that the best thing Conner could do would be to build strength and endurance for his lungs. While full contact sports would never be a part of Conner's life, activity and sports in general would be necessary for his continued health. And Catherine had watched in pride as his his parents took that advice to heart. Jackson learned aquatic breathing techniques and faithfully swam in the apartment's indoor pool with his son on a regular basis (with an inhaler nearby, of course) to help the boy better learn to handle his breathing. April took Conner to gymnastics every single week and carved time out of every work day to take the boy out of daycare and on long walks through the hospital hallways to help him build stamina.

Catherine thought that Jackson and April were better parents than they realized. For the most part, they were good people raising their baby right. Not that she didn't see areas with room for improvement of course, but they'd had to deal with some difficult things in the beginning. Honestly even for Catherine, the time had past in a busy whirlwind and shifted the entire family's focus to maintaining Conner's well being. Five years later the only physical evidence that remained of Conner's traumatic start to life was a slightly barreled chest, the occasional need for an inhaler, and a few scars.

Conner's accomplishments and resilience never failed to amaze. April called it a miracle. Catherine didn't believe in miracles.

"Careful buddy," Jackson chided. "Why don't we go get changed into some dry pajama's and then you can sit with Gramma?"

Catherine gently patted her grandson's shoulder, "Go get dry. I'll show you this later."

Conner bounded off down the hall toward his bedroom, "I'll be back!"

"Do you want help?" Jackson offered, watching his son in amusement.

"No! I can do it by myself."

"Okay..." Using his towel, Jackson gestured toward the master bedroom and asked, "Is April?"

Smiling, Catherine pointed to the video baby monitor that sat next to her chair, "Both the ladies of the house are still fast asleep."

On the screen the monitor provided a horizontal bird's eye view of the bedside bassinet that now resided in her son and daughter in law's bedroom. Her 4 day old granddaughter, and partial namesake, Riley Catherine, was clearly visible as she slumbered peacefully. Catherine chuckled. While she wasn't exactly sold on the first name, she was honored to be included for the middle name. And her infant granddaughter truly was one of the most beautiful babies Catherine had ever seen, even with all bias aside. Riley was the spitting image of her father at the same age, and spending these past days helping her son and daughter settle in had brought back plenty of memories. She was as loud and alert as Jackson had been as a baby.

Just beyond the small bassinet, April's sleeping form was just visible on the screen in the nearby bed. Mother and daughter both snored softly.

Following Catherine's gaze to the screen, Jackson shook his head in disbelief, "It's kind of weird. Having her around so soon. We didn't get to take Conner home for months..."

"Well, Riley is not sick," she replied. "This how things normally go..."

In fact, as reluctant as Jackson and April had appeared to be about having a second child, this pregnancy and birth had gone off without a single hitch. No fear filled prenatal screenings, no painful birth separations, and best of all (in Catherine's opinion, anyway) no emergency christenings. That didn't make Jackson and April relax at all, however. At every single stage Catherine had watched her son and daughter in law being hyper vigilant, always fearful of the other shoe dropping.

She'd very nearly grown accustomed to the idea of Conner being her only grandchild, given Jackson and April's experience. His birth experience had scarred the both of them, and it made sense that they might not want to risk enduring that again. When they told her they were pregnant with another baby, even though they never told her as much, Catherine had seen the fear in Jackson and April's eyes. Her son had never seemed so silent and stoic, and her daughter in law was once again wound up tighter than a drum. All through the pregnancy the couple's nerves were palpable. She didn't know Jackson's and April's reasoning in choosing to have a second child (for all Catherine knew there was none), but the choice was clearly a brave one. 

And then again,  _some_  things about Riley's birth were no different from her brother's. Once again, Harper had opted not to join Catherine in a visit to Seattle.

Old fool.

Catherine's eyes narrowed as she watched her son hold back a yawn. "Honey, you can go to sleep if you like. I believe the whole idea is to sleep when they sleep..."

Jackson shrugged sheepishly, "I probably should."

"I'll put Mr. Conner to bed."

"I know you will."

Raising one eyebrow, Catherine turned back to her work, "Of course, this whole thing would be ten times easier if you and April would just hire a nanny...I'll even foot the bill."

"We don't want a nanny," Jackson scowled.

Sometimes getting children to see reason was difficult. At any age.

She tilted her head to one side and ignored her son's response, "I understand you two feeling like you needed to take special care of Conner given his condition, but caring for two children and managing two challenging careers is something else entirely. And you can't just put them in that baby warehouse of a hospital daycare at Grey Sloan."

The years had not worn down Catherine's anger and distrust of Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. April and Jackson only seemed keen to participate in the broader Harper Avery Foundation when it allowed them to protect Richard Webber and the defiant hospital board. Which meant that while Catherine had been able to muster up enough votes to limit certain programming budgets for the place, thus far she'd been blocked from defunding the place.

It was a topic the the family rarely discussed. And they all seemed to know that someday things would all come to a head.

Now that Catherine had not one, but both of her precious grandchildren likely to end up spending significant amounts of their formative years in the Grey Sloan Memorial daycare, she felt she had the right to be concerned. Anything could happen in that place. For all they knew the next big 'event' at Grey Sloan Memorial would involve locusts descending on the childcare area!

Richard Webber had once accused Catherine of being too work and foundation minded. At the time she'd been put off by his accusation. Five years later, she preferred to think that for her at least, (and for Richard too, though he was too much of a hypocrite to admit it) professional and personal were inescapably intertwined.

And she knew what Richard would say in this situation. That it wasn't Catherine's place to even comment. That she was holding a grudge. That her priorities were skewed. But he was wrong. What was good for the Harper Avery Foundation was almost certainly good for the Avery family as well.

"We don't want a nanny," Jackson repeated, a slight edge clearly audible in his voice.

"You mean  _April_  doesn't want a nanny."

Catherine had already butted heads with her daughter in law over a number of things when it came to the children, outside of her objections to Conner's exposure to religion. And all over actions that Catherine had taken in Jackson's own childhood. Aspects of being an Avery that Jackson had to be comfortable with. April and Catherine disagreed on everything from trust funds to publicity. There would be no official press release from the foundation announcing the birth of a new baby. No pictures or official acknowledgement that the family upon which the Harper Avery Foundation was founded had grown. She'd understood making that decision with Conner, but Riley was healthy. It was important that the Foundation maintain the publicity surrounding the family. She felt certain her son understood this. But it was clear that April did not.

As with the wedding, Riley's birth was another missed opportunity for the Foundation's public face. 

Jackson repeated his word's one more time, very firmly. " _We_  don't want a nanny."  _  
_

She tilted her head to one side and looked away. "If you say so, baby."

"Mom," her son sighed, clearly exhausted. "I am glad you are here, and I am tired and I really don't want to fight right now."

"Look at me!" Conner shouted, dashing back into the living room triumphantly, showing off his successful pajama dressing with the impeccable timing that only small children seem to have.

His voice was loud enough that both Riley and April shifted in their sleep on the baby monitor.

"Shh...remember we gotta use inside voices," Jackson hushed, moving down the hall as Catherine beckoned for her grandson to take a seat in her lap. "We don't want to wake up Mama and your sister."

Conner climbed into his grandmother's lap and made a face, "Sorry."

Jackson yawned and called out a final set of instructions before disappearing from view down the hall, "He needs to be in bed by 8. Don't forget to use his nebulizer..."

"We'll be just fine, huh baby?" Catherine murmured, patting Conner on the bottom as the boy snuggled into her embrace.

The boy sniffed and nodded, gazing intently at the baby monitor as he watched his father appear on the far edge of the screen and leaned down to kiss Riley's forehead before sliding into bed next to April.

"What do you think of your little sister?"

"She's okay, I guess. She sleep a lot..." Conner shrugged.

Catherine had to chuckle at the disappointment she heard in her grandson's voice. "Give it a little time. You might start to like her."

He wrinkled his nose, "We went to church and I asked God for a brother, but He sent  _her_  instead."

That statement gave Catherine pause. She knew that her son and daughter in law attended a local church every Sunday with her grandson. The tenuous compromised reached between Jackson and April seemed to Catherine to be more like a complete and total surrender on her son's part. Jackson seemed willing to let many things go. Conner seemed to be a baptized, church attending, talks about God like He's Santa kind of boy, and that didn't feel like a compromise to Catherine. When it came to the question of God or no God, she had trouble seeing how compromise was possible at all. Whenever she visited or the family came to Boston the situation bothered her. However, she'd learned to hold her tongue when it came to the subject of April's religion.

Catherine could tell that her daughter in law had some desire to share or even explain her strong faith with her. And she didn't really know why, but the idea made her uncomfortable. It came a little to close to home. It reminded her a little too much of her last conversation with her sister Caroline. So whenever April tried to bring it up, Catherine changed the subject. 

"Well," she replied carefully. "Your sister was always a girl. Her DNA make up from the moment she began was a blueprint for a girl."

Conner tilted his head to look up into her eyes, "Huh?"

Catherine took hold of one of his hands and idly counted his small fingers, "Yes. DNA is what makes you you, and every single person who they are. It tells what your hair color will be, and whether or not you like pancakes or eggs, and whether not you are a boy or a girl."

"Okay..." her grandson nodded, looking down.

Nudging Conner comfortingly, Catherine continued, "Hey. Don't worry. Having a sister can be fun."

Most of the time.

"I guess so."

"What do you say you help me take a look at the Harper Avery nominations?"

Conner's mood brightened, "Okay! What's a mon-im-ashins?"

She threw her head back in laughter. Religion or not, at least the little man was interested in the Harper Avery Foundation. It was more than could be said about his father a lot of the time.

Catherine always preferred to stand up for what she believed in, but there were sometimes, when you simply had to strike a deal. For the sake of calm. All she could do with Conner was try to explain things from the scientific perspective whenever possible. She could show him that the truth of science and hope that it was enough to influence his beliefs at least as much as his mother's religiosity.

It was the bargain Catherine had to make.


	5. Chapter 5

_The Sins of the Father_

Jackson Avery realized that he was very good at compartmentalizing.

His feelings, his work responsibilities, heck, he even managed to strictly separate his regional sports loyalties between Boston and Seattle, by game and season. His ability to push aside and ignore his feelings to a certain extent had caused Jackson loads of trouble over the years. With his mother, occasionally with his children, and even April.

Sometimes  _especially_  April. It had even nearly cost him the opportunity to marry her in the first place.

He realized it wasn't always a healthy way to run your life, but it wasn't as though Jackson's coping strategy had been cultivated in a vacuum. And much as he tried to kick the habit, even when it had caused him trouble over the years, there were still times when being able to detach and clamp down on big emotions was useful to Jackson.

So it was hard to let go of a habit that had long helped him survive.

Especially given all the increasing pressures that the Harper Avery Foundation was placing on his shoulders. Especially considering the fact that his Grey Sloan colleagues could never seem to let go of their resentment towards the role he'd had to play on the board for the last decade. Especially when unexpected skeletons of the past reared their ugly heads.

Jackson needed to be able to compartmentalize his emotions. Because he couldn't face all the feelings at once.

Especially at times like this. Jackson deliberately avoided looking at his phone, although the first email in his inbox still sat there, mocking him, just begging for him to let go of his inner control. It had been a frustrating past several months to begin with, with the stress of work and a new baby at home, and the last thing Jackson had needed was an email out of the blue from his father after all these years.

The bastard. The selfish, sanctimonious, egotistical bastard! But then, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Julian Avery had never done anything Jackson  _needed_.

Right now, he just needed to get through this meeting. If he could get through this meeting, then he could go home and relax. Or try to. For the night at least. It was kind of difficult when you had an 8 year old, a toddler, and an infant in the house. And a wife who was still home, not quite finished with maternity leave and clearly going stir crazy. Added to that, the family was due to fly out to Ohio for a graduation (which Jackson didn't even really want to go to) the following day.

Real recipe for relaxation.  _Not._

But Jackson had to focus. One thing at a time. He scowled and cleared his throat looking out at all the angry faces that filled Grey Sloan Memorial boardroom. Yet again, just by doing his job, all of his co-workers would treat Jackson like the bad guy. Sometimes he hated being the one who always had to step up. He hated how the dynamics of his work place often made him have to act like the only adult in the room. He'd thought that it would get better, but after many years of being a board member, Jackson had definitively decided that things were actually worse.

"What it comes down to," he shifted uncomfortably, and played with the corner of his cell phone. "Is the question: Do we want to be a research hospital or a teaching hospital?"

Meredith scowled and crossed her arms, "We've  _always_  been both."

Jackson scowled in frustration has he saw Derek nod and cross his arms as a murmur of agreement passed across the room. Callie shook her head as her eyes narrowed and Arizona tapped her fingers against the side of her pen, almost as though it was a trigger she was getting ready to pull. Gunning for Jackson as though he was cause of all the hospital's problems. Only Hunt and Bailey seemed not to be openly hostile, but it was clear they didn't like what they were hearing either.

They just didn't get it.

"Well," Jackson explained, trying to maintain an even tone. "Be that as it may, the past is the past. We still have to make a choice, because the money isn't there for both."

Webber balked, "The hell it isn't. The Harper Avery Foundation is not starving for money."

Jackson took a deep breath and leveled his gaze on the elderly former chief of surgery. He hated that his job was made more difficult by Webber and his mother's on again off again, (currently on again) romance. Because, in addition to the flack he'd get from the board for unpopular decisions he forced them to make for the survival of Grey Sloan, Jackson would also be subject to criticism from his own mother. Because one way or another, together or not, Richard Webber would give Catherine his version of events. So, not only would he have to deal with criticism from his fellow surgeons, but from his mother as well.

_"Why can't you control your people, baby?"_

And then she'd remind Jackson that it was only his and April consistent votes that even allowed the Harper Avery Foundation to continue funding the hospital in he first place. Catherine had made motions to drop the hospital from their supported venue list on several occasions.

Sometimes he envied Alex Karev. Private practice would be so much easier.

"The foundation has many obligations," he explained carefully. "And that list continues to grow. They already contribute significantly to our operating costs. We are far from the only hospital that gets their support."

Torres huffed and muttered under her breath, "We're the only one with the foundation's heir apparent on the payroll."

Jackson felt his jaw tighten, and he almost growled, "This hospital is no different than any of the others the Harper Avery Foundation funds. Just because I work here doesn't mean I can demand special treatment for us."

"You can't or you won't?" Derek asked quietly.

They really didn't understand.

The rest of the meeting was a bust that all but dissolved into a shouting match. Owen advocated focusing on teaching, while Miranda (to Jackson's surprise) supported research. The rest of the board simply would not play ball, refusing to even entertain the idea that the hospital might have to change in order to continue to function within the budget they were being offered.

And all the while, Julian Avery's email on his phone felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. It took all Jackson's willpower not to throw the damn thing out of his car window on his drive home.

What a shit day.

Jackson scowled as he wearily made his way into his apartment building. When he unlocked the door to his home, he was greeted by the smell of spaghetti and the sounds of a child screaming, a crying baby, and the raised voice of his wife.

"Riley, this is your last warning! Get down from the counter right now! One..."

"No!"

He rounded the corner and kept his pace even as the three female members of his family came into view. April had her back to him, holding his youngest daughter Hannah on her hip, and a bottle in her free hand as the (probably hungry) 3 month old fussed. Her attention was focused on their other daughter Riley, who Jackson could see was standing tall (with characteristically defiant hands on her hips, no less) on the long counter top island that separated their kitchen and living room areas. She was stubborn and too smart for her own good, and far more articulate and advanced than her ill brother had been at the same age.

Generally, Riley was a lot of fun. But sometimes she could drive both Jackson and April completely crazy. Terrible twos? More like terrible threes. Or terrible almost fours.

April continued sternly, "Two..."

Riley stomped her foot, "I don't wanna!"

"Three," April was undeterred and gestured with Hannah's bottle for the toddler to move. The baby's fussing grew sharper and her brown eyes followed her dinner closely. "Get down. Now!"

"But why, Mama?" the girl whined.

"Because I said so!" her exasperation was evident in April's voice. "Because you are too close to the hot stove and it's dangerous."

Internally Jackson groaned and added 'because your grimy little feet are dirty and food is prepared on that counter.' He winced at the sharpness of his own thoughts. Jackson knew he was in a bad mood so he tried to slip past the scene unnoticed.

"I careful! I won't touch. It not dangerous," Riley countered, spotting Jackson as he shuffled past the counter top island in the kitchen. "I can stay if I careful. Right, Daddy?"

April turned around expectantly to Jackson, watching in dismay as he continued his walk through the apartment. He felt like an ass, but he ducked his head and headed toward the apartment's study. He just wasn't ready to jump in and deal with an unreasonable toddler or crying baby just yet. Not when the board meeting was terrible and with his father's email weighing down the phone in his pocket like a doomed anchor.

Jackson felt like he just couldn't deal.

"Uh...I don't know," he absently mumbled in reply, moving swiftly past the kitchen and an inquisitive Riley. "Just listen to your mother."

That earned him an exasperated glare from both his wife and his older daughter.

Riley's words reached his ears just as Jackson slipped into the sanctuary of the study. "But Daddy, aren't you a'pposedta know everything?"

He sighed and shut the door behind him, muffling but not eclipsing the sound of his wife wrangling Riley into her timeout. Jackson sighed, leaning his forehead against the door, and feeling some of the tension in his muscles ease. With his face still pressed against the cool wood, he reluctantly slipped his cell phone out of his pocket, letting his gaze linger on the sender name in his inbox.

Julian Avery.

What the fuck? Why on earth did the man decide to reach out to Jackson now, after so many years? When Jackson finally felt he'd moved past the whole abandonment thing. When he'd finally built a life that he almost felt comfortable in, with a family he loved very much.

Why would his father reach out to him now?

Wincing as Riley let out a particularly loud protest, Jackson mumbled, "We really need a house..."

More space. Thicker walls.

"Are you okay, Daddy?"

Conner's raspy voice made Jackson jump. He turned around and grinned when he saw his son sitting at the desk chair, seemingly engulfed in a basketball video game. Somehow he'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to notice the 8 year old, the thicker feeling in the room, and the soothing hum of Conner's humidifier.

Most of the time the boy showed little to no outward effects from his unusual birth defects, aside from his noticeably large square chest. Conner was an active and eager to please kind of child who did well in school. The days of his need for surgeries seemed long past, and Jackson's mother always joked that the broad chest was nothing to worry about anyway, because it basically made Conner look like he was standing tall and walking proud all the time.

_"As all Averys should."_

Except Julian, of course.

The dryer parts of the year were always a bit harder for Conner and his lungs. As were most of his visits to Moline, due to the amount of animals and crops in the area. Spring and summer were hard for the boy. Too many things blooming. It would be even worse in Ohio the next day. The office was the least ventilated room in the apartment, so Jackson and April often set the boy up to do and extra or unexpected breathing treatments in there away from the curious hands of his little sister.

Normally Conner was first to greet Jackson when he got home, but it made sense that on the eve of a visit to Ohio, his wife would have their son in here with his machine. Jackson had been just too caught up in his day to realize.

Evading his son's astute line of questioning, Jackson made his way to the boy's side and slipped onto the seat next to him, grabbing a second set of game controls and adding himself to the boy's game.

"You're in my hiding spot..." he quipped, nudging the boy's shoulder.

Conner raised his eyebrows cheekily, "It's a good spot."

Jackson beamed. He adored his son. It was so hard to remember how uncertain and frightening things had been back before Conner's birth. Hard to believe he'd ever considered abortion or long term disability care. Both April and Jackson were thrilled he was doing so well. They might also spoil Conner a little. It was hard not too frankly. They were both so happy that he was alive.

"Is basketball your favorite, Daddy?"

Jackson nodded, "Yes it is."

"Then it's my favorite too!"

They played the video game in silence for a while until more sounds of muffled yelling and crying reached both the male's ears. They exchanged knowing expressions. The women in their family were  _loud_. And had  _very_  distinctive voices.

Jackson shook his head, "Maybe three of them at once was not the best planning. We should have bought more earplugs."

"It's  _your_  fault Hannah is a girl," Conner deadpanned. "Gramma told me! It's the Daddies who make babies be boys or girls.  _I_  wanted a brother."

"Fair enough," Jackson chuckled.

Conner had made his preferences well known from the get go, right from the very moment April and Jackson had sat the kids down to explain that they would be getting a sibling. Riley had been understandably a little confused about the whole situation, and asked if the new family member could be a puppy instead, which had made everyone laugh. It really wasn't a situation Jackson had experienced himself. He was an only child, and given the absence of his father, and Catherine Avery's demanding and ground breaking career, a sibling had never been that viable. He'd never really ever thought about how it would feel to have your parents tell you that a baby was on the way.

April had more experience in that area. When it came to families, it often frustrated Jackson because it seemed like April had more experience with everything. She'd had siblings and two parents, and lots of cousins. She'd held babies long before she'd held a scalpel, and she'd gone to large family reunions long before she'd gone out to big traumas. And April was  _so_  thoughtful and careful about it all too. Bordering on the point where Jackson kind of felt she could be a bit overprotective.

There was a childcare checklist on their fridge. And practically all of their friends and family had been supplied with copies, just in case they babysat, which seemed a little much. But hey, what did he know?

His father had left him behind.

Jackson often felt a little out of his depth in comparison to his wife, although April always seemed to give him more credit as a parent than he gave himself.

And her case to have just one more baby was something Jackson had totally been able to get on board with (for the trying alone). They'd both been a bit scarred by what had happened with Conner. The pregnancy and his early years had been hard. Just getting through each month with a child who continued to breath seemed like a huge accomplishment and it had taken them 5 years to even consider bringing another child into the mix. What if something else went wrong?

His wife had told him that she couldn't imagine their son being an only child and so after he was healthy, they'd taken the plunge and had Riley. Everything had gone so smoothly with that. Their oldest daughter had been perfect, the pregnancy smooth and free of fear. And almost before he knew it they were trying again, for just one more time, because Riley was growing up quickly and even though they'd initially envisioned just a family of four, both Jackson and April couldn't imagine not caring for another infant.

And Conner had wanted this last baby to be a boy.

But then Hannah had come to complete their family. And she was a girl. To Conner at least, it was the small misfortune of being a girl. Jackson figured the boy would just have to get over it. He thought Hannah was pretty awesome. From the moment Jackson held her for the first time. She was as cute as a button, with plump little legs and dark curly hair. Most of the time she was all dimples and eye lashes. Jackson wasn't sure if it was just because he was getting more used to being a Dad thing, but so far Hannah was turning out to be way less stressful to care for than either Riley or Conner had been at the same age. She was generally mellow, very healthy, and only seemed to get worked up over food.

The door to the study opened and both Conner and Jackson turned to find April leaning in the doorway with a now drowsy looking Hannah still perched on her hip.

"Conner, go wash your hands. Dinner is ready," April instructed, patting the boy's shoulder as he walked past her. Glancing at her watch, she added, "And help your sister watch hers. She's done with her time out."

"Okay, Mom."

Jackson ran a hand down the back of his neck and tried to escape his wife's curious gaze. They could both hear Riley and Conner talking and splashing around in the sink as they washed their hands.

"Tough day?" he ventured, thinking of the scene he'd found upon arriving home.

Hannah gurgled and started to drool, shoving her tiny fist in her mouth as she tried to watch parents.

April followed Jackson into the hallway, narrowing her eyes, "Not as tough as yours apparently. Are you okay, Jackson? How did the board meeting go?"

Unwilling to go into the real reason why Jackson was out of sorts, he told a half truth, "It sucked. No one on the board is willing to make any concessions. We have plan for the new budget, and everyone yelled at me. They think I can bring more money in from the foundation just because of who I am."

His wife's brow furrowed, and her concern was evident in the way her lips fell into a deep frown, "Even Chief Hunt?"

Owen and Jackson didn't really see eye to eye a lot of the time, and he knew that sometimes April had more faith in her mentor than he did.

"He wasn't as rude, but yeah..."

April rolled her eyes in frustration, "I can't believe they can act so unprofessional!"

Jackson chuckled, "I case you hadn't noticed that's kind of the law of the land at Grey Sloan. And that's not  _all_  bad."

He and his wife had enjoyed their fair share of 'unprofessional' in on call rooms at Grey Sloan Memorial.

She balked and smacked his shoulder gently, "I am serious. It's not like you have it out for the hospital. I've seen the Foundation's budgets for this year. It's funding so many projects. And some of the endowment returns are lower than projected. There's just not as much money as they think. You're just doing your job, and it is so ridiculous that they don't appreciate that."

Heartened by the fact that April seemed to believe that he was only off because of work, Jackson wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, still keenly aware of the unread message that still sat on his phone. He'd had a few moments to calm himself down and push the feelings away.

"I know," Jackson agreed, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

"Well, as  _soon_  as I get back, Jackson," April continued, heading down the hallway toward the kitchen. "Mark my words, as soon as I get back, I'll go to a board meeting with you!"

"April-"

"No, listen!" she explained earnestly. "Your mom let me be on the foundation budget committee. I've seen our financials! I can explain to the board exactly why the budget is the way it is. They can't keep treating you this way. I won't let them."

Jackson smiled. He'd never been that interested in the gritty line by line numbers when it came to being a part of the Harper Avery Foundation. He tried not to deal with that kind of stuff anymore than he had too for his job. But April loved that kind of thing, and had gradually began participating more in that area of being an Avery.

Much to Catherine Avery's delight.

Even though Jackson didn't think the hospital board would listen to his wife any more than they did him, he appreciated how much April wanted to look out for him. They always had each others back. He swallowed hard, slipping his hand into his pocket and fingering the corner of his phone. April would support him. He  _knew_  she would. If only he told her the truth about his Dad's email. She'd sit with him while he read it, or she'd wait outside the room. Hell, Jackson knew she'd probably read it for him. April would be there for him, however he needed.

All he need do was  _ask_.

But something held Jackson back. He couldn't really say what. Maybe he wanted to protect April from the furious storm of feelings that welled up in his chest whenever he started to think about how messed up it all was. Maybe he wanted to protect himself.

And April wouldn't really understand anyway. She believed in God and happy endings and reconciliations. And Joe Kepner had always been there for April when she needed him.

So Jackson pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached for his daughter, deftly changing the subject, "Let's just eat, okay? I'll take her, you've got a little bit of a spit up situation."

April's eyes immediately drifted to the growing puddle of drool that the baby was depositing on her shoulder and laughed, "Oh Hannah. As soon as Mama puts away the burp cloth, you just let it rip, huh? Just to keep me on my toes? Huh, baby girl? Let me get a towel..."

Easily taking his infant daughter into his arms, Jackson's gaze tracked his wife as she practically glided into the kitchen to clean up. She was wearing sweatpants, and socks and would probably say that she looked gross, but he would always disagree. He still couldn't believe how much he loved her. Even more so after they'd had kids, which once Jackson would have found hard to believe. She still frustrated him and confused him at times, but Jackson was pretty sure April would say the same thing about him.

Conner and Riley scampered past him, and into the kitchen, allowing their mother to inspect their hands after washing. She grinned and tickled a sheepish looking Riley before leading them to the dining table. Jackson tilted his head and tried to imagine what it must have been like when he was a very small child. He honestly couldn't ever remember his father being around. Had Julian Avery ever looked on at Jackson and his mother in this way? Had he ever loved them the way Jackson loved his own family?

How could he have? How could Julian have felt that way and left them behind? The longer Jackson was a father, the angrier he felt towards his own.

By the time the family was settled and ready to eat, Jackson had made his decision. He refused to deal with this. His father had left him. Julian had made his choice. And that was it.

April lowered her head and closed her eyes, the older kids followed suit. Hannah chewed her hand and blinked drowsily in her high chair. Jackson bowed his head and clasped his hands as well, but as usual, he didn't close his eyes while his wife led the dinner prayer.

"We'd like to thank you father so much for the blessings that we have..."

Watching his family pray, Jackson set his jaw and slipped his hand  back into his pocket.

Suddenly feeling watched, Jackson glanced up to find Riley's blue eyes starting right at him as Conner and April continued to pray. She grinned at her father before crossing her eyes and making a face.

He didn't share his wife's beliefs, but he and April had both agreed to never discount each others beliefs in front of the kids. Sometimes they both still had slip ups, and it was hard. And even though Jackson didn't believe there was any point in praying at all, he thought it was important for his daughter to respect April's need for dinner prayer time.

He raised his eyebrows and gestured with his eyes for Riley to pay attention. She scowled, but dutifully lowered her head and closed her eyes as April finished up the prayer.

Glancing to the side, Jackson slipped his phone from his pocket, reading the top message sender one more time. He pressed his thumb to the email, selecting it and making the icon go gray. Swallowing hard, Jackson let his finger hover.

April continued, "We thank you Lord, for our health and happiness. And especially for this food, because we know that there are those who are less fortunate than we are. Amen."

The family mumbled, "Amen."

Jackson pressed delete.

* * *

Julian sent him another email exactly one year later.

This time Jackson was already in Ohio for yet another graduation. It seemed like almost every year there was a wedding or a birth or a graduation in April's family in Moline. And this year Kimmie and Brett's second son Zachary was the lucky graduate. Jackson couldn't say he knew any of his myriad of nieces and nephews well, but they all seemed to like him well enough. Though they didn't make it down to Moline often, Jackson at least felt like he was getting used to being a part of a large extended family.

He was in the middle of posing for a picture in front of Kepner farm with Conner and the red haired graduate when he felt the phone in his pocket buzz.

Jackson continued to grin for the picture, assuming that whatever the message was, it was sent by his mother because if anyone would be emailing him while he was on vacation, it would be her.

After Kimmie snapped the photo, Zach tousled Conner's hair and shook Jackson's hand.

"Thanks for coming, Uncle Jackson! And for the sweet sneakers! You and Aunt April give the  _best_  gifts."

"Yeah, well," Jackson smiled, patting Conner on the shoulder "Graduation is really all about the swag, anyway..."

Zach grinned and rolled his eyes as his mother pulled him away for another set of photo's with Libby and some of his other cousins.

Conner smiled too, but Jackson frowned in concern when he heard the boy's laughter dissolve into coughs. Maybe they were too close to the hay. He placed a hand on his son's back and guided him back toward the farm house. He frowned in concern as the coughing continued.

"Okay, Con-man," Jackson said. "Let's get you back in the house. Mama's got your inhaler."

The boy had lost his inhaler enough times this trip alone, that it was easier for an adult to keep it close by. Conner didn't need to be told twice. Holding a fist to his mouth to cover his cough, he didn't protest and followed Jackson into the farm house. And that was the moment Jackson idly slipped his phone out of his pocket to check the message.

And seeing a message from his father made Jackson's blood run cold.

He was a little surprised to find that his father was reaching out to him again. Jackson had wondered in the days after the first message, whether Julian Avery would contact him again. And weirdly enough, there was still a small part of himself (which he hated) that wanted his father to reach out again. Not necessarily that Jackson would actually respond, but just knowing that Julian hadn't given up and disappeared again might have felt good.

Of course, in the days and months following the initial email, nothing else ever came and Jackson was disappointed by his father again. And so he'd shoved it down and let it go. He'd pushed it from his mind.

Until now. Julian had the worst timing.

Inside the house was just as chaotic as the outside, filled with more miscellaneous Kepner relatives. He caught sight of his daughter Hannah giggling happily on her grandfather's lap as the old man bounced her around like she was on a bucking horse. His mood worsened. Sometimes, Jackson was jealous of how easy Joe Kepner was with fatherhood and grandfatherhood with the kids. It seemed that all his daughter's adored him, and turned to him for advice and support even as adults. Being a father was the best role Jackson had ever had, but it hard for him. He was terrified of messing up.

Because Jackson was a product of someone messing up at the job and his kids deserved better. It pissed him off that the same someone who'd messed him up, Julian Avery, who really shouldn't have the right or the power to make Jackson feel anything, could still impact his life.

Setting his jaw and shoving his phone back into his pocket, he led Conner through the house, casting around for his wife. The coughing had subsided to a soft wheeze, but Jackson figured a break from the outdoors and a dose of his inhaler wouldn't hurt. Maybe he just wanted to be doing something in the moment that made him feel like he was a good parent.

A better father than Julian. 

"April," he said curtly, spying his wife, mother in law and Riley in the living room. "Inhaler. There's too much hay out there."

Briefly her expression looked like she was taken aback by Jackson's brief explanations, but that quickly gave way to concern as she watched Conner. Jackson briskly slid his daughter to the side, and placed the 9 year old by his mother, while April rummaged through her purse and pulled out the boy's blue and silver inhaler.

"Hey!" Riley scowled, crossing her arms as both Jackson and April helped their son take a few puffs from his inhaler. "I was sitting next to Mama!"

Karen Kepner reached out and plucked the 4 year old girl into her lap, "Ha! Well, now you get to sit with Nana! Here, look at these pictures with me. Let me see if you remember who everyone is..."

Riley shot a brief glare toward Jackson, Conner, and April, but began playing the game with her grandmother, pointing out people in various pictures and explaining who they were.

"That's Mama! When she was little," the girl announced triumphantly. "That's Aunt Kimmie when he married Uncle Brett before Gabe, and Zach and Lily were borned. And that one is...uh, Grampi?"

Jackson gently rubbed Conner's back as his son pulled back the inhaler and took three deep, but uninhibited breaths. April leaned forward and kissed the boy's forehead. He didn't have breathing episodes often, but then he did, it took both Jackson and April back to times in Conner's life that they'd rather forget.

"Close," Karen continued her conversation with Riley. "That is Big Bill, your Grampi's Daddy when he bought his first tractor. He's in heaven now, but I know he would have gotten a kick out of you..."

The girl giggled, "Big Bill? Like Big Bird?"

"He wasn't very tall," Karen chuckled. "But he was big man..."

"Do you feel better, honey?" April whispered to Conner.

"Yeah," he replied, nodding slowly and leaning closer to her. "Thanks, Mama."

Jackson slipped his phone out of his pocket and frowned, tuning out the conversation swirling around him and still feeling that strange mixture of feelings he'd gotten the last time Julian Avery had reached out to him. He was seething with anger. Reeling in confusion. And disgusted by the small part of him that felt excited.

"What about my Daddy?" Riley's voice cut through. "Where's his Daddy?"

Startled, Jackson looked up at his daughter and mother in law. Of all the topics for the little girl to get curious about, this had to be the one she'd latch onto now. He couldn't help the way that the muscles in his body stiffened at his daughter's questions. And it didn't escape April's notice.

"Well," Karen replied carefully. "I don't actually know much about that, my love. But you've got your great-grandpa on that side though...you've met him."

Riley turned to Jackson, "Is your Daddy dead like Big Bill?"

For a moment the words caught in Jackson's throat, and he tried not to let his anger toward Julian come through in this strangled reply. He wasn't mad at his daughter. He was mad at Julian. And probably had been mad at him for longer than he could ever admit.

"He's not dead," Jackson mumbled. "He just went away."

He felt a mild sense of pride when both Conner and Riley seemed to be truly puzzled by the idea of a Dad just going away.

"Where did he go?" Riley wondered.

"Doesn't matter," Jackson scowled.

He'd asked that same question many a time when he was not much older than his daughter.

April reached across Conner and rested a calming hand on Jackson's knee, squeezing gently. Even though she had no idea about the email that had triggered his mood, she seemed to sense that the topic was particularly sensitive to him in this moment.

"Sometimes, people grow up without Daddies," she explained to Riley carefully. "Every family is different. Remember how we talked about different families when Derek and Meredith adopted Mei? Families can grow differently, and they can have lots of variations."

"Like how Nico and Sofia have  _two_  Mommies!" Riley seemed to be catching on.

"Not everyone grows up with their Dad, and that's okay. So long as everyone loves each other, it doesn't matter what kind of family it is..."

Jackson felt himself relax somewhat. As much as she could put her foot in her mouth with coworkers and even him sometimes, April usually seemed to know the right thing to say to the children. And often the right thing to say to him.

Family was a club with a membership that depended on love. Jackson thought of all the people he loved most, and Julian wasn't on the list. To be a member of a family, you had to show up. You had to show your love. Over the entirety of Jackson's life, Julian had been an absent figure. He could literally count on one hand the number of memories he had of his father. And he wasn't even sure that those were true memories and not stories concocted while looking at pictures. In the decades since Julian Avery had left Jackson behind, only twice, this and last year, had the man tried to reach out to his son. Via email no less.

Julian never really reached out.

Not then Jackson broke his arm in middle school. Not when he won his first sports trophy. Not when he graduated high school. Or college. Or medical school. Julian Avery hadn't even reached out to his son when he got married and became a father.

That's not showing love. That's not how family should behave.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket Jackson quickly opened the message, forcing his eyes to unfocused just enough so that he didn't read the content of his father's email. He selected Julian Avery's name and quickly pressed blocked the sender before he had time to change his mind.

Julian Avery had not been a part of his life for a long time. And now, fully and truly, he would be out of Jackson's life forever. And not because of leaving Jackson behind, but because Jackson was  _choosing_  not to allow the man back in.

He was the one leaving that part of his life behind now. He wasn't a powerless little boy anymore. Jackson was making his own decisions and there was a part of Jackson that hoped his father felt as crushed by his refusal to respond as little Jackson had been when he could fully understand his father's absence.

"Yeah," Jackson agreed, pulling himself back to the Kepner living room and putting his phone away. He tried to smile brightly at his daughter, "What really matters in a family is knowing that everyone loves each other. And that they'll be there for you. Like now. We're all together for your cousin's graduation."

One of the few things Jackson was absolutely sure about in his life, was that his new family, April, Conner, Riley, and Hannah, all loved him. They all loved each other.

And that was all Jackson needed.


	6. Chapter 6

_Impostor Syndrome_

The first April time saw the complete Harper Avery Foundation budget, she felt light headed. Literally.

The memory and her momentary bout with dizziness was vivid in her mind all these years later. April couldn't even blame it on illness or pregnancy, since she'd attended her first board budget meeting when Conner was a year and a half and she was fully recovered from her chemical exposure. She had not been sick.

It was just  _so_  much money.

"Okay everyone," April cleared her throat, sounding way more confident than she felt addressing the room full of senior board members. "Let's go ahead and get started."

The chatter died down, the only sounds remaining were the rustle of papers and the faint tapping of tablets as all attention turned to the head of the table.

"I know you all were expecting Dr. Avery. Uh, Dr. Catherine Avery that is. Or the senior Dr. Avery," April continued carefully, glancing down at her notes and rubbing her protruding belly as her baby twisted and squirmed.

Maybe he was nervous too.

She swallowed and added, "Or Dr. Jackson Avery..."

An affirmative murmur confirmed her statement. It was just  _so_  much money.

Millions upon millions of dollars. An  _astronomical_ amount of money. More money than reasonably successful tech company's had. More money than reasonably successful Level One Trauma centers had. More money than Moline had probably ever had in the whole history of being an incorporated township. It was almost too much money for April to wrap her brain around.

At that first meeting her mother in law had chuckled and rolled her eyes fondly when she observed April's jaw drop, saying blithely, "That's our budget this year, honey..."

480  _million_. Give or take a few million.

And it wasn't just that the foundation simply had so much money that made April's stomach twist into knots. It was the added magnitude of the fact that she was playing more and more of a role in what would happen to that money that was so shocking. Her own decisions and choices, preferences and desires, could be bestowed or inflicted on the medical community as a whole with a mere majority vote by foundation board members.

April could literally see where the money went. And she had the power change it.

When she'd first started participating on budget allocation, she'd noticed how much of the research grant money was being funneled though already well endowed and established east coast hospitals. All places with deeply entrenched ties to both Catherine and Harper Avery, which didn't seem entirely fair. A stray comment made about the topic within Catherine's earshot had resulted in the development of a brand new grant program, 'because we all need to have pet projects, dear', and that was it.

Boom.

Just like that. Within a year, hundreds of thousands of dollars were dispatched to middle tier hospitals in the west, midwest, and south, ear marked specially for young and promising researchers who didn't have the access or proximity to Harper Avery to obtain the funding otherwise.

 _All_  because of April. She never quite knew how to feel about having that kind of influence.

"And," April hung her head trying to avoid the concerned gazes of the board members around her. "As I am sure you've noticed, they aren't here."

The expressions on the faces before her became somber. They could probably guess what she was going to say next. Harper's illness was hardly a secret from the board. Nor was his age.

She pressed on, "I'm sorry to say that Harper's condition unfortunately has taken a turn for the worse and both my husband and his mother are at Mass Gen by his side. I have been brought up to speed with Harper's goals and the agenda for this year and Harper made it very clear that he wants us to carry on and get this year's strategic plan finalized and approved. He...He doesn't want any of this to slow the foundation down..."

One of the older board member's shook his head fondly, "Of course he did. Hell of a man, is Harper. That is dedication."

Board meetings were intimidating.

Members could literally see where all the money came from. They could also see whether it was growing (April had been somewhat naively surprised to find that the huge endowment didn't always grow). The board members could argue over the money. And they did, often heatedly. Board meetings were not relaxed affairs, no matter how nonchalant Catherine, Harper, and sometimes even Jackson styled themselves to be.

April was an astute observer. Especially of her family. She watched Harper and Catherine to learn as much as she could about running the Harper Avery Foundation. She watched Jackson because she loved him and because she could see just how much all of this legacy burdened him. From the very beginning, perhaps on some level in an effort to prove herself (in light of her sudden marriage into the family), April had determined to become as helpful as she possibly could to her new Avery family.

Catherine and Harper weren't going to live forever and Jackson couldn't handle the whole organization on his own.

And now her moment had arrived. Harper's lung cancer diagnosis and steep decline had caused both Catherine and Jackson considerable pain and heartache. It was hard for April too, but her experience with it was less acute. Her relationship with Harper was chilly at best. Terrifying as the realization was, she came to understand that eventually, the fate and future of the Harper Avery Foundation would fall into her and Jackson's hands. Even if they didn't really want it to.

So, April watched her family. Jackson blinked a lot and his jaw was set. Catherine pursed her lips and took deep breaths. Harper narrowed his eyes and messed with his pen. She could tell when each of them was tense though they tried to hide it.

Attending a board meeting was intense. It wasn't easy, even for a fully grown, and reasonably successful trauma surgeon. And April didn't think she wanted it for her children. At least not at 15.

Having to worry about 480 million dollars seemed like a little much to be thinking about at only 15. A 15 year old should be worried about school and friends and growing up.

At least, that's what normal 15 year old's did. Avery's were turning out to be a whole different animal, and April herself still wasn't quite used to that. Her children were Avery's, and though she'd kept her last name professionally, for all intents and purposes she was an Avery too. The Avery legacy wasn't something she fully understood, let alone something she'd figured out how to fully explain to her children.

Fortunately, Conner, Riley, and Hannah were still very young. So far, their questions were simple, but April found the topic difficult.

Both professionally and personally, money was just another part of being an Avery. Even after a decade of being married April wasn't at ease with it, but time had made her much better at pretending.

"Turning to page 2, I think we can just start from the beginning of the agenda," April flipped through the packet in front of her, feeling the eyes of the board still watching her.

She wondered what they were thinking. Probably taking in her flushed cheeks and heavily pregnant body as signs she wasn't capable of smoothing running the meeting. Though April tried to kick the habit, she still cared what people thought about her.

Then again, in the past April certainly  _chose_  to attend more board meetings than Jackson did. His relationship with the Harper Avery Foundation continued to be rocky and filled with resentment. Not that he talked about it. April could just tell, because in the past few years, he'd gotten even more silent and stubborn when it came to his mother's desire to pull him deeper into the organization.

Catherine and Harper held the organization together and there was no two ways about it.

Most of the time in April's life, she didn't have to think much about foundation or the money, one way or another. She was way too caught up in the minutia of day to day life as a mother and trauma surgeon. It mostly came to the fore in the summer, when she and Jackson traveled to Boston to participate in the Harper Avery Foundation Annual meeting. And even then, April still felt a enough like an outsider that she was content to allow Harper and Catherine to run the show with the other board members. Jackson's interest in the foundation was still low, so he too seemed content to go with the flow when it came to the board, only chiming in when the board voted on things he and April really cared about.

Most summers, that seemed to be the status quo. April was used to it. Jackson didn't hate it. And Harper tolerated it. However, this summer, April found herself not only in Boston, but nominally in charge of the  _entire_  Annual Meeting. The money and the pressure was hard to overlook now.

But, as the meeting went on, April felt more and more confident in saying that she wasn't bad at handling it. The proceeding hadn't devolved into a hopeless shouting match. It wasn't falling apart. She wasn't terrible at managing the conflicting egos of aging board members, nor was she irresponsible in stewardship of the funds that the foundation dispensed.

Actually, running the Harper Avery Foundation Annual Meeting was a lot like stabilizing an incoming trauma. April found comfort in that. She knew how to handle that. Most of the time she didn't worry about money. For the most part, April treated money the same way she always had. Carefully.  _Responsibly._

In Seattle, it was mostly a non issue. April knew intellectually that she didn't have to worry about money anymore. But then, that had been a leap she'd already made long before marrying Jackson. Growing up on the farm in Moline hadn't exactly been the poorest of childhoods, but April could remember the years when her father's crop yield was lower than expected and the family had been left to subsist on her mother's teaching salary and the food they could grow. Those years were tight but not poor.

Middle class.

And as soon as she'd finished and passed her final year of medical school, April had began to accept that her financial life would be different than most of the people she'd grown up with back home. Because regardless of anything else (even her numerous mistakes in surgical residency), with her degree, April could practice medicine in some form. It was the type of profession where income wasn't negatively subject to things like swift changes in the weather and the market price of hog feed.

Marrying Jackson had pulled April into yet another echelon of financial security. In the beginning the shock was more acute for April. Because sometimes Jackson just  _said_  things. About life and money and lawyers and trust funds and capital gains. And he'd just say it like it was the most normal thing in the world and in those moments, (like when he helped her pay for Matthew's half of the ruined wedding, ordered private planes for patients using his credit card, or called in favors from special doctors to help Conner) April remembered just how different they were.

In time, she grew more accustomed to her husband's wealth. April was the first to admit, it was not without it's perks. She very much enjoyed having those benefits. April never felt like she'd become someone who was overly extravagant, but there was something liberating about being able to buy whatever you wanted without having to worry about a thing.

Three kids (soon to be four) feeling a bit cramped in the old apartment? No problem. They bought a house. Lump sum, no mortgage. Car maintenance becoming a chore? Easy peasy. April got a new car. Paid in full. Work stress? Jackson and April booked a spontaneous grown ups only trip to an exclusive resort on a private beach in Hawaii, which April had hoped would be a chance for her to unwind and get to the bottom of some of her husband's recent tensions and silences.

Of course, they had definitely found ways to de-stress, (they always did) but the trip hadn't exactly yielded the results she'd intended. Harper was ill and work was stressful and sometimes with Jackson sex was a way he could feel better and get past his tendency to shut down. Sex calmed them both and so they took a luxury trip and April made sure they did it as often as possible.

Some of their most honest conversations happened after lovemaking.

But in the end, after the vacation Jackson still seemed to be frustrated and holding something back and April had ended up pregnant with a little unexpected (but not unwelcome) surprise.

Scripture was right. Money wasn't everything.

At the conclusion of the boisterous meeting, April sat lost in thought as the rest of the board members filed out of the room. She knew she had to go to the hospital as soon as possible, despite the aching in her back and the way her professional flats made her feet swell. Really, she wanted nothing more than a nap. And possibly a box of white cheddar cheez-its.

Unfortunately, neither was an option just yet.

After giving herself a small moment of pause, April pulled her self to her feet and made her way out of the boardroom. Harper demanded updates. Even his illness didn't stop him from being his usual self.

Upon finding out about his diagnosis, while April and Jackson were both understandably distressed, the old man had rolled his eyes defiantly.

"It's hardly a tragic event," he'd quipped. "I am 94 years old. No one can cry that my life is being cut short. And the diagnosis is hardly unusual either. In the 50's, everyone chain smoked. I'm likely a statistical anomaly, lasting this long with out cancer..."

It was hard to know how to respond to an attitude like that. Or how to help. Not that the old man would accept any help from April anyway. Harper didn't want her care. He didn't want her prayer. He rebuffed her every offer of physical aid, and even cried fowl over Catherine'e insistence that her daughter in law run the board meeting so that she and Jackson could spend a little more time with the family patriarch.

April never had the sense that Harper Avery trusted her. Heck, even years after marrying Harper's only grandson, April had almost no indication as to whether or not the old man even  _liked_  her. He was always polite enough. However, just beneath the surface there was always something thinly veiled in the way he spoke to her.

"Oh. You specialize in trauma..."

"I'm sure you've never been to a gala like this."

"Pregnant  _again_ , I see. Already plumping up."

April couldn't say for sure whether or not his underlying feelings about her were actual contempt, but at the very least, she thought it was clear that Harper was disappointed in Jackson's choice of marrying her. He displayed some affection towards the kids, but he was generally very aloof towards April.

She supposed it went both ways. Her parents had taken a long time to trust Jackson, given his sudden interruption of her wedding and their lack of knowledge about their romantic history. Her father seemed to still struggle with it, but he had always told her he believed no one had a right to judge but God. So long as April was happy, Karen and Joe were able to overlook their concerns. And they adored the kids who, as April occasionally pointed out, would not exist if not for Jackson.

And her sisters? Well, after the initial shock and scandal of the wedding, Libby, Kimmie, and Alice because surprisingly accepting of Jackson and more accepting of April than they'd ever been. Though April still thought it was mostly surface level trust as opposed to something more genuine. She loved her sisters dearly, and she knew that they loved her too. But it was clear to April that they understood and appreciated money and looks better than education or accomplishment.

With Harper things were different.

The family really didn't see him very often. Catherine came to visit Jackson, April, and the kids frequently, as did various members of April's family. Harper rarely joined his daughter in law, however. Most of the time, the only point in the year where April crossed paths with Harper was the annual trip to Boston. Which occurred in July, but not because of any holiday or family event.

They went because it was the end of the foundation's fiscal year.

Sure enough, the very first thing Harper said when April waddled into his hospital room and eased herself carefully into the chair next to his bed was about the board meeting. He wore an oxygen tube and his skin was pale and sallow. In the weeks since his diagnosis, Harper had also lost a lot of weight. He was positively skeletal. Not that that changed his attitude at all.

Talking about the Harper Avery Foundation was one of the few things still left that brought a spark to his eyes.

"How did the meeting go?" he demanded eagerly.

"It went fine," April replied evenly, spotting an uneaten cup of chocolate pudding on the old man's discarded lunch tray and involuntarily licking her lips. "Hello to you too."

Harper waved his hand dismissively, "You didn't let Cox get to you?"

Whether or not Harper Avery liked or trusted April personally, she was absolutely positive that he never envisioned her sitting at the head of a the yearly board meeting of  _his_  precious organization.

Heat spread to April's cheeks and she almost giggled at the man's words out loud, even though she knew he didn't mean for them to sound the way they did. She wasn't sure if her pregnancy messed with her humor or whether her nerves around the old man made her prone to laughing at inappropriate times, but she knew that Harper never appreciated the moments she let it slip out.

"N-no...definitely not," she replied, clearing her throat and reaching for the pudding cup and a spoon.

Observing the blush in April's cheeks, Harper gave her a withering look and ignored her chuckle, "He's a maverick that one. If it was up to him he'd have the foundation run into the ground by next year...I understand that he wants to fund medical entrepreneurs outside the main stream scientific fields, but I'll be damned if he loses our whole endowment putting faith in upstart, Silicon Valley tech-"

"Well," April interrupted, gesturing with her spoon as the old man coughed. She was very familiar with Harper's rants on this subject. "He did try to interject a few motions to diversify our investments. But I kept the focus on the long term strategic plan. And the vote is done. Your budget was approved."

"Fully, with no holdovers, or ride-ons, or amendments?"

His desperate gaze met hers and April nodded.

"Yes," she said firmly. "Your full budget passed. I made sure."

Grudgingly Harper nodded, "Well, that's...good."

April shrugged and took a bite of pudding, "You're welcome."

"I could say the same to you. You're eating my pudding after all," he sulked, fidgeting with the oxygen line beneath his nose. "Taste alright?"

Her nostrils flared. He could never just accept that maybe, just maybe, April was capable of actually being an asset to the Harper Avery Foundation. And more than just as Jackson's wife or as the mother of the next generation of Averys. Both Harper and Catherine seemed to have blinders when it came to the fact that someday (for Harper sooner rather than later) the Foundation would not be in their control. And given Jackson's stubborn apathy towards a lot of the responsibilities of the nonprofit, April felt like Harper aught to be giving her just a  _little_  bit more credit for the way she'd chosen to step up and take things like the budget committee on.

She narrowed her eyes and took a large bite of pudding, "Amazing."

She'd been a decent and loving member of the family for over ten years after all, even if her entry into all things Avery was a little abrupt. And surely enough time had passed for the old man to forgive her.

April supposed that for Harper it was hard to let go. And frustrating as it was, she could actually understand that, because there was a part of her that was just  _dying_ to call and check in with Edwards to make sure that her ( _incredibly_  surprising) protegee was running the Grey Sloan Memorial Emergency Room to her exact specifications for the duration of her undetermined absence. Jackson and April had agreed to stay in Boston for the summer, so that Catherine wasn't alone when Harper passed. Which meant that Edwards would be in charge not only of the day to day ER operations, but several important skills labs for the 2nd and 3rd year residents as well.

And it was killing April not to be there, since soon enough, with an August due date, she'd be out on maternity leave anyway. She was missing a golden opportunity to inspire and recruit residents into her trauma field, which could still be a tough sell compared to other specialties. Her skills labs were some of the most effective ways to root out the trauma surgeons at heart. And this year, April was going to miss them.

All because of an old man who didn't even like her.

Harper's racking cough continued, making his sunken cheeks puff out and causing small tears to form in the corner of his eyes. April immediately felt guilty about the direction of her thoughts. She put down her pudding and grabbed the old man's cup of water, leaning forward awkwardly because of her stomach, and helping him take a sip. She prayed silently that the liquid would do the trick and ease his suffering.

Harper was so cranky that sometimes it was easy to forget that he was dying. And that dying wasn't easy. Lung cancer is both a slow and quick death. The time between diagnosis and passing was as little as a matter of weeks sometimes, yet watching someone you love decline felt like it could take a century. April was used to trauma, quick often gruesome and out of the blue deaths. Not waiting for the slow wasting away of someone's ability to breathe.

April supposed if she was dying like that, she might well be a little cranky too.

After a few painful looking swallows, Harper sniffed and leaned back against his pillows. His breathing was better and the pair sat in silence for a few minutes. Harper gazed at the Boston skyline outside his window, while April relaxed in her seat and allowed her fingers to dance along her large belly. This baby seemed to love that kind of thing, pushing back against her fingers any time she tapped.

April sighed happily. He wasn't a kicker (like her first three had been in the womb), so much as a wriggler.

"This one another boy, yes?" Harper asked, recovered from his outburst and observing her calmly.

April nodded. Conner was thrilled.

She'd been so on edge (with good reason) when she was pregnant with Conner and when he was small. It all seemed so precarious. For most of her pregnancy, April didn't even know if he had lungs, and then after he was born there had been no guarantee that his lungs would continue to work. And so April had been constantly vigilant, always looking ahead and anticipating obstacles. For Riley things hadn't really been that different. She still spent the whole pregnancy tense and afraid something would go wrong.

Harper cleared his throat, "I think that girls might be easier than boys."

"Oh really?"

April couldn't really say that her daughter's were easier than Conner. Often times it felt more like her eldest child was the easiest of all, health issues left aside.

"Yes, they generally learn to communicate sooner," Harper explained confidently. "They're more likely to see reason."

She snorted, thinking of her own girls, "Not always."

April supposed it was because after Conner fear was all she knew, and it seemed almost impossible that things could possibly be normal. Only they had been. Riley was born healthy and had rarely been anything but for her whole life. Hannah was supposed to be April's last pregnancy, so she'd tried let things go. And she had let herself relax more and enjoyed that experience much more than with the first two.

With this last baby, April was even less fearful. He was a surprise and with him she was able to be more present.

"And little girls are always more loving," Harper mused, surprising her by continuing an unusual topic of conversation for him "A boy will eventually see you as an object of competition..."

Narrowing her eyes, April shook her head, "I don't really think that's true."

"That's just a father's perspective though," he conceded. "Perhaps it's different for the mother..."

Her brow furrowed. Harper was only a father to Julian as far as she knew. He was probably basing his theory on his observations of his own great-granddaughters.

Jackson was different this time around too. With her other pregnancies he was attentive and almost annoyingly caring. Not that he was inattentive now, but April could tell Jackson was distracted. With good reason for the most part. He tended to downplay his relationship with his grandfather but she was pretty sure that Harper's decline had rocked her husband to his core.

After all, without Julian Avery around, Harper was the closest thing to a father that her husband had ever had.

"You won't name this child after me," Harper urged. "No matter the timing or my current circumstances."

"Uh, we weren't planning on it," April replied awkwardly, eyes darting around the room. To be honest, despite being so close to the baby's birth, Jackson and April had yet to settle on baby names.

"Good. The foundation is namesake enough for me..." he nodded, seemingly satisfied. After a pause he added under his breath, "Probably more than I deserve."

April looked at her hands and continued to gently tap her swollen stomach. She didn't really know what to say to that, so she chose to say nothing. Harper seemed content to let the conversation drop too.

The silence progressed and April finally ventured, "Where is everyone?"

"Catherine was called into a meeting at the Brigham," Harper explained. "And I sent Jackson and the children to the park."

She pursed her lips and tiled her head to one side, "You know the whole point of us being here is so the kids can spend time with you. So Jackson and I can help you."

Harper scowled and coughed softly, "Not really amounting to much though, is it? Jackson never likes to spend time with me-"

"He does," April protested, though it sounded a little hollow to her own ears.

"No, he doesn't," the old man was adamant. "Besides, your older daughter seems to be bored out of her mind. Your younger daughter keeps sneaking into other patients's rooms, and your son seems terrified of my oxygen tank. That coupled with the fact that I am dying, does not for a merry visit make."

Biting her lip, April became pensive. She couldn't really argue with his observations. Jackson could be moody. Riley was easily bored. Hannah was a pretty decent escape artist for a two year old. And Conner...well, he wasn't exactly a big fan of hospitals, despite his insistence that he wanted to be a surgeon when he grew up.

But April didn't think it actually had much to do with spending time with Harper. That's just how her family was sometimes.

"Harper, that's not-it's not supposed to be merry exactly, but..."

"It would probably help if you didn't fill their heads with all that kumbayah Jesus nonsense. The children think I am about to embark on some jolly vacation," he'd crossed his arms and she knew he was on a roll.

April could only raise her eyes to the ceiling in frustration and let him say his piece.

He waved a finger in her direction, "Mark my words, April: I am  _not_  going to heaven."

A smile pulled at the corners of April's lips, despite the subject matter. Normally she would be offended, but Harper never seemed happier than when he was lecturing someone. Even when it was ridiculous.

She playfully raised her eyebrows and replied with a shrug, "I never said you were."

Letting out a loud sound, April wasn't sure if it was a cough or a laugh, Harper turned to face her sharply. After a moment, she figured that he must be laughing since he was looking at her with a look of mild appreciation on his face.

"You..." Harper wheezed finally, smiling for the first time this visit. "You have always been a surprise."

April was about to ask him whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, but their moment was interrupted by a small and familiar voice.

"Mama!" Hannah exclaimed happily, waving to April from Jackson's arms. "We see quack quacks!  _QUACK!_ "

Harper and April turned to see their family standing in the doorway, the girls clad in matching yellow sundresses from their Aunt Alice and Conner sporting a Boston Celtics t-shirt Jackson had bought for his birthday. Taking in the sight of her beloved children and husband, April's expression brightened, "You did?  _Very_  cool."

Pausing briefly to press a kiss to April's cheek, Jackson carried his daughter around Harper's bed, settling into the chair on the opposite side. He scowled at his grandfather and pursed his lips, keeping a firm grip on Hannah. He seemed angry, but April couldn't see why. Conner lingered uncomfortably in the doorway, wringing his hands together. She sighed sympathetically and beckoned the 10 year old to her side, wrapping her arm around his shoulders in a gentle hug.

Riley strode right up to her grandfather's bed, confidently climbing up by the old man's side and patting his arm gently, "Still alive, Papapa?"

"Riley!" Both Jackson and April snapped at their daughter in sync.

"Shouldn't ask that kind of stuff," Conner muttered under his breath.

Harper looked at the girl fondly and waved off their outrage. "It's a fair line of questioning."

For whatever reason, though he was usually cold and detached from the children, Harper did occasionally dote on Riley. And in turn, she seemed far more interested in him than the other two. Hannah was too little to comprehend the situation at all, and Conner probably understood it too well, given his own experience with breathing troubles. Both of them were a bit afraid of Harper. But not Riley.

Riley wanted to learn about her great grandfather. She also seemed to want to learn about death. And not the vague and age appropriate explanation Jackson could give her, nor the religious and age appropriate explanation April have given. Riley seemed determined to learn about it from someone in the know and in the midst of dying.

"I am still alive for the time being, my dear,"Harper explained, pushing a lock of the girl's curly hair behind her ear downright tenderly. "But it's not too long to go, I'd say. You look so much like your father, missy. It's uncanny."

"How do you know?" Riley asked, brushing off the old man's comment with flapping hands and small scowl, steering the conversation back to where her curiosity lay. "How do you know it's not long to go?

"I feel more and more tired, my medication makes my mind foggy and my tumors make it very difficult for me to breathe."

Riley frowned, "What does it feel like?"

"Everything is slowing down," Harper explained with a cough. He gazed out of his room's small window, and let his arthritis riddled fingers trace the flower pattern on the hem of Riley's dress.

"Not long to go."

* * *

July passed by surprisingly quickly, and then August came and all the while Harper still clung to life, though his lucidity was long gone. So Jackson and April and their family were still in Boston. In a mansion, no less.

Another perk of money and legacy. Even though she'd stayed in Harper's home many times, April still felt out of place. Very much like Cinderella.

It was nothing like when they stayed in Moline at her parents house, all cramped into one room, where every little sound or movement seemed to be amplified like a megaphone throughout the entire creaky house. At Harper's spacious mansion, there was room for everyone. Hell, there was practically a  _wing  
_ for everyone.

Which, April mused, gasping sharply as Jackson moved behind her in rough but even strokes, was pretty handy. Privacy was definitely a valuable commodity.

She didn't know whether it was stress of being away from home, the humid hot summer weather, late pregnancy hormones, or a combination of all of the above, but April was  _horny._ Despite the sadness surrounding her grandfather in law's decline, and the fact that she was due any day and about the size of a house, she seemed like she wanted it all the time. Fortunately, she had a wonderful husband who always seemed to be on the same page as she was when it came to physical intimacy. That had always been a part of their relationship where they really clicked. Communication? Not so much. Fundamental world view? Not exactly.

But sex? Jackson and April were made for each other.

When it was over, they rolled apart, limbs still tangled together. Both Jackson and April stared at the ornate ceiling above them, working hard to catch their breath as they came down from the high. Jackson let out a long breath and smacked her thigh gently. April took hold of his hand and laced their fingers together, turning to face her husband with a dreamy grin.

"That was..." Jackson still hadn't caught his breath. "That was amazing."

She practically purred, "It certainly was..."

"You liked that?" he whispered, clearly proud of his performance.

April nodded, "I love you."

Though he squeezed her hand, Jackson continued to look at the ceiling, "I love you too."

April frowned slightly and pressed her nose to his shoulder, kissing her way up Jackson's neck and jawline. Seemingly oblivious, he still stared at the ceiling, releasing her fingers, and giving her thigh a gentle poke before pulling himself into a sitting position and rising from the bed. The gesture was innocent enough, but the way the touch made her newly expanded skin jiggle made April feel instantly self conscious. She really was huge. About to freaking pop, as Karev might say.

"The kids'll be up soon," Jackson mumbled, pulling on a pair of boxers. "I still wanna go into the hospital early to catch Grandpa before they give him his morning medication..."

April swallowed hard, as the internal battle began within her. That same niggling insecurity that she could never ever seem to fully vanquish. The part of herself that never felt  _good_  enough. She liked to think that she'd gotten much better at handling her confidence issues over the years, but there were still plenty of times the insecurity reared it ugly head in various aspects of April's life. Times when she felt not good enough at her job. Or like a terrible mother. Or like a fat foolish farm girl who was hopelessly incapable of pleasing her amazing husband.

Never quite good enough to be an Avery.

That's not to say that any of these insecurities were actually true, intellectually April understood that they probably weren't, but she couldn't always control the way they barged unbidden into her waking mind. She didn't always know how to brush it off, so it was a constant struggle to find reassurance.

April supposed it was her cross to bear.

Sighing in frustration and brushing a hand across her sweaty forehead and through her tousled hair, April watched Jackson carefully.

"You know..." she lamented piteously running her fingers along the stretched exposed skin of her pregnant belly. "I was still working on losing the weight from Hannah."

Jackson's head popped through the top of his t-shirt, with a confused expression on his face, "Hmmm? What are you talking about?"

"When I got pregnant," April frowned. "I was still trying to lose Hannah's baby weight. But I didn't and now I'm all fat again."

"So? It's part of pregnancy. I'd worried if you hadn't gained any weight," Jackson replied logically, walking into the spacious connected bathroom and turning on the sink taps. "It'll be fine. And your body is doing what it needs to to grow a healthy baby."

"It gets harder and harder to drop the extra pounds after every pregnancy," April winced, embarrassed but unable to stop her tone from sounding whiny. "Look at my mother! Just look at her!"

As a child, April had never really considered her mother's rounded body shape. But now that she really thought about it, you could chart it's progress in the family photos that lined the farmhouse walls. In her youth, Karen Kepner's figure was sleek and athletic. Karen's stature became rounder and rounder following the birth of each of the four Kepner sisters. And after Alice, she never seemed to be able to slim it down to her original figure. Her mother was confident in herself however, more than April had ever been able to be.

"Uhh, I-I don't-" Jackson blinked uncomfortably.

April gulped. It was the tragedy of all women. They turned into their mothers.

She groaned placing both hands squarely on her abdomen, "This baby is huge. My skin is going to be so stretched..."

"You could always get a tummy tuck," Jackson offered thickly as he began to brush his teeth. "I can recommend a few good surgeons..."

"What?" April sat up sharply, (for a pregnant woman) scowling at her husband. "No! Absolutely not!"

"Okay," Jackson shrugged, spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste. "It was just a suggestion. Don't worry so much."

She wasn't sure why her response was so strong. He knew people and was a plastic surgeon after all. Then again his suggestion didn't exactly help stem April's feelings of inadequacy. Her immediate distaste for the idea was strong and she wasn't sure why. April frowned, feeling a bit puzzled. Maybe she'd just wanted Jackson to say she was beautiful any way.

"I'm gonna go check on the kids and get breakfast started," he continued calmly, placing his toothbrush back on the garish rack that matched the bathroom's over ornate decor. "Then I think I will head over to see Grandpa. You and my mom still going through Grandpa's stuff?"

Still feeling put out, April nodded. It was a weird thing, going through another person's personal belongings before they died, but it was one thing Harper had requested before his breathing and lack oxygen started taking a toll on his mind. He thought it was the most efficient use of Jackson and April's time in Boston and it would save time over all with more than just Catherine and her assistant rummaging through his estate. He certainly refused to have 'the help' his housekeeper and her assistant, be in charge of clearing out his personal belongings.

"Good," Jackson said, pausing to kiss April's forehead on his way out of the room. "Take it easy, okay? Don't lift anything heavy. Don't over do it. Let Mom and Conner help you. I'll try to be back before lunch time and then I'll help too."

"Really?"

April found it a little creepy. And it did not escape her notice that Jackson, more often than not, found reasons not to participate. She couldn't really begrudge him the time he chose to spend with the declining Harper, but sometimes it just seemed like he chose to go because he wanted to avoid exploring the artifacts of his grandfather's life. Maybe he didn't want to find any reminders of his father.

Not surprisingly, lunch came and went, but Jackson did not return. No one was surprised when he called and said Harper was having a tough enough day that he wanted to stay with his grandfather. Even without him, Catherine and April were making good progress on the home, even with three rowdy children running around trying to 'help'. They'd gone through Harper's living room and home laboratory.

"Hannah!" April snapped sharply when she spied her younger daughter winding up to hit an unsuspecting Riley from behind. "What are you doing? We keep our hands to ourselves!"

The toddler was in her handsy phase, experimenting almost daily with the limits of what she could and couldn't do when it came to touching other people. It meant that the whole family was subject to random and unexpected hits, kicks, pokes and tickles. For whatever reason, most of the experimentation was directed at Riley, probably because she was easiest to get a rise out of. April knew that the little girl wasn't trying to be malicious, but she also was determined to help her daughter learn personal boundaries.

Riley spun around with a glare and lunged toward her smaller sister, "Were you gonna hit me?"

"Yup yup!" Hannah giggled mischievously, which only seemed to further insight the older girl's anger. The five year old's hands curled into fists and she scowled as Hannah stuck out her tongue.

"Hey! Girls!" April raised her voice, trying to quell the brewing fight before it started. She couldn't exactly get up in a hurry so she hoped her voice would get through to her daughters.

Catherine and Conner returned to the room, carrying another set of boxes for the cleaning.

"Uh oh," the older woman exclaimed in amusement, scooping up Hannah and peppering the child with kisses. "Are you causing trouble, young lady?"

"Yes!"

Conner groaned, twisting the edges of his shirt with his hands in frustration, "They're always causing trouble..."

Riley pouted and crossed her arms.

"I think it's just been a hard summer for everyone," April said tiredly. She'd under estimated just how much of a break running an ER while the kids were in school and daycare could really be. "Spending so much time together is great, but sometimes I think it makes us all a bit stir crazy."

"Well," Catherine agreed. "None of this is easy, for my big or little babies to understand. We're all going to miss the old fool."

"I don't think Hannah was trying to hit me because of Papapa," Riley snarled. "She just being silly!"

"Oh honey, all sister's act silly sometimes," her grandmother tried to sooth. "I'm sure your Mama and your Aunties did the same thing. I know my sister Caroline and I used to get into all sorts of-"

"What?" April blinked, nearly dropping the clothing he had in her hands. She felt a little blindsided. "You have a sister?"

To her shock, it was her son that replied. Conner nodded nonchalantly, "Yes. Caroline. With a C! Like how me and Gramma's names both start with C's..."

Her jaw dropped in disbelief. How was it that after years of being Catherine's daughter in law, April could never recall hearing anything about any sisters? She was sure she would remember something like that, mommy brain or not. Her mother in law had told her countless stories about finding her drive and her determination growing up in rural Texas. April had heard stories about Catherine's parents, her grandfather the Fox patriarch, and even a few assorted cousins.

Never anything about a sister.

Conner was close to his grandmother, sure, but April felt a little miffed by the fact that Catherine had shared such a vital detail with a ten year old, yet neglected to even mention it to her daughter in law.

Immediately suspecting the worst about Caroline Fox, April stammered, "Is she...did she... you never said?"

"Well," Catherine replied dismissively, but something in her gaze revealed that it was probably a bigger deal than she was trying to convey. "We um...we were never close. We haven't talked in years. Not since my parents died..."

April's eyes widened at Catherine's quick explanation of what was obviously a rift. Just how many fractured relationships did the Avery family have? First Julian, and now apparently a sister on Catherine's side. The Kepner women got catty and bickered when they fought, but they never stopped talking. Avery's, on the other hand, seemed to simply drop out of each other's lives. Jackson's unwillingness to so much as breathe his father's name was a tactic he'd unwittingly learned from his mother.

And no one seemed to think that April was worth sharing much of anything with. And  _that_  was one of the most frustrating things about being an Avery for her. She felt like she was never quite fully allowed 'in'. Harper, Catherine, and her husband all had pretty thick walls. Probably to protect themselves.

But April also wanted to protect them, as much as she strived to protect her children. If only they would let her.

As the afternoon wore on, the girls didn't settle down, so after Hannah pulled Riley's hair and the older girl retaliated in kind, Catherine and April decided it might be time to divide and conquer. Riley and April moved on to clearing out Harper's home office, while Conner, Catherine, and Hannah set off to tackle the old man's bedroom. The office was one of April's favorite rooms in the house, with a great view, comfortable seating, and walls lined with bookshelves that were bursting and double stacked with books.

It was Riley's favorite room too. Though she was firmly a child of the 21st century, she also loved books and papers. The girl immediately was able to calm her spiked temper as she and April began to sift through the mountain of papers and files stacked on Harper's desk. He'd never embraced the idea of going paperless, and judging by the dates of some of the paper's April found, he apparently wasn't interested in letting things go either. She found files that were older than her.

"Mama look!" Riley shouted in excitement, holding up a box from the lower left drawer like it was buried treasure. "What is it?"

The baby twisted and seemed to push against April's spine and she shifted uncomfortably, turning in her chair to examine her daughter's find while pressing on her abdomen in the hope of coaxing him into a new position. "Looks like an old cigar box."

"Wow," the girl shook the box happily, listening to the faint jingling sounds the movement elicited. "What do you think is inside? Maybe money..."

April chose not to explain to her daughter that Harper Avery was probably one of the last people in the world who would ever need to hide any amount of cash in a box in their desk. He was a man of means and he would be the first to tell you that he was far above doing something like that.

"I don't know," April admitted taking the box from Riley's hands and turning it over carefully. "Doesn't sound like cigars..."

"Let's open it," the girl demanded eagerly, with a wondrous gleam in her bright eyes.

"Ummm..."

She wasn't sure why she was hesitant. After all, April had already spent the better part of the last few days rifling through Harper's belongings in a way. With his permission. And in order to decide whether an item was worth keeping, they would at least need to see what it was. It was just that April had a strange feeling about this simple unassuming box.

Maybe because so much of what Harper owned was as over the top and ostentatious as he was. This box was different, and in April's mind, that made it special. He kept it in his bottom desk drawer. A location that was both hidden away and in reach. The kind of location that was saved for special things. Important things. April hid her notebooks like that.

"Mama?" Riley's voice cut through April's racing thoughts. "Can we open it?"

Biting her lip, April placed the box on the desk, allowing her daughter to slide next to her on the desk chair. Her hands hovered over the lid of the box in indecision. She didn't know if it was right to open, but at the same time, she wanted to know what was so special to Harper that he'd keep it both close and hidden in the depths of his desk.

Curiosity eventually got the better of April, so she carefully lifted the lid off the box, tilting it to one side and shaking the contents onto Harper's desk.

"Whoa!" Riley gasped, running her fingers carefully across the items strewn out before her. The box was mostly filled with old photographs. Riley loved pictures and her excitement was palpable.

April scanned through the familiar and unfamiliar faces. She spied an old and very formal looking wedding photo of Elizabeth and Harper, recognizing the glint of her own diamond heirloom wedding ring in the flash of the camera. There were a few pictures of Jackson as a baby, along with another, more informal looking wedding photo of a much younger Catherine with a long haired and smug looking Julian. Nothing in the box seemed to be from after Julian's departure. But it was the older items that caught April's attention.

Most of the photos were of Elizabeth Avery in her younger years, looking more glamorous and fashionable than April could have ever imagined. She'd seen a few photo's of her husband's grandmother of course, but most of those belonged to Jackson and came from her later years. Many of them featured a tired looking woman already ailing from her own bout with cancer. Very different than the pictures Harper kept.

At the bottom of the box, April found herself blinking back tears when she found a blue ribbon tied around a lock of silky gray hair. It could only be Elizabeth's and the fact that Harper had kept it made her rethink her impression of the old man's crusty hard nosed exterior.

"Hey!" Riley announced, pointing excitedly at another image. "She looks like me!"

April turned her head to scrutinize the faded and yellowing photograph her daughter held up. Sure enough, it was a colorized studio picture of a grinning child with shining blue eyes and flowing blond hair. Though the hair and skin color definitely were much too light to match, April immediately recognized the girls features. She'd seen them before many times in her daughter. And her husband.

Brow furrowing April turned the photo over, squinting at the faint scrawl on the back of the paper. "Annalise, '55. Age 3." Beneath that, in even shakier looking handwriting, a darker more recent addition made April's blood run cold.

" _Last photograph"_

There were other pictures of this child too. Happily riding on Harper's shoulders, and snuggled with Elizabeth in a rocking chair. It was heart-breakingly clear that Annalise was Harper's daughter. A daughter who was older than Julian. A daughter April had never heard a thing about, who had apparently died very young age.

Their conversation about raising girls the previous month in the hospital suddenly made more sense. There was so much about Harper that April didn't know. Many things she realized she'd never get the chance to know.

"Hey! There's a dolly in this drawer too, Mama!"

Growing bored with the pictures (she tended to like them better when she knew the family members depicted) Riley had continued to rummage through the desk. She was now bursting at the seems with glee as she held up a floppy rag doll with yellow yarn for hair.

"Can I keep her?"

April had no doubts that the doll was another part of Harper's secret box, likely kept separate only because it was too large for the Cuban cigar box to contain. She also had no doubts that the doll had once belonged to the girl in the photographs.

"Umm..." she fumbled. "We might have to talk to Gramma about that...it looks very old. She's fragile. We'll probably just have to keep her safe instead of playing with her."

A small flicker of frustration surged through April. How did they expect her to help run the Harper Avery Foundation when she still had little idea as to what actually made Harper tick in the first place? How did they expect her to know what to do with precious keepsakes like this, when she'd had no warning, not even the slightest heads up, that such an object might have even existed? Cleaning was far from simple. Did Jackson know he had a long deceased aunt? Did Catherine? Why did Harper never talk about her?

"Can I look at her then? I promise to be really careful!"

"Okay," April allowed finally. "But really, you have to be very careful."

Riley carried the doll like it was porcelain and took it over to the office window to better examine it in the light. April continued to sort Harper's cigar box.

Most of the pictures were of family or of Elizabeth, but as she sorted, April also found that a fair amount of them dated from Harper's time as a medic in the Korean War. Old black and white images of tanks, scruffy dogs, and tents were intermingled with pictures of a young and dashing Harper in uniform. She even found a very beat up and bent set of old dog tags.

She initially assumed that they belonged to her grandfather in law, but a closer inspection made April's eyes grow wide. They belonged to a private named Simon Clayton, and she was pretty sure that the dried dark spots on the damaged looking tags were from blood rather than rust. Unfortunately, Harper spoke less of the war than he did about his lost daughter so April had absolutely no idea what story, if any, related to the dog tags. Her gut told her it had to be important for Harper to keep the tags tucked away with his keepsakes from Elizabeth and Annalise.

Most of the war era pictures lacked the useful captioning that the family photos had, so they weren't much help, though April did find one that she thought might contain Private Clayton's image. Harper stood, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth at a coy angle, next to a sweet looking shorter soldier with sloppily cropped curly hair. They seemed to be complete opposites. Harper was tall an thin, with a very serious and almost arrogant expression, whereas the other man was grinning toothily with one arm slung over Harper's shoulder. Both sported the white and red arm bands of army medics on their right arms. Both seemed incredibly young and carefree.

'H & S: Always swell' was the only scribbled caption that the picture offered. April figured that if H was for Harper, S had to be for Simon.

Looking at the box, and considering what she already knew about her family, one thing was certain. Behind all the money, accolades, and advantages was a lot of pain. April felt like the longer she was married, the more she discovered. The Avery family  _carried_  a lot of pain. They didn't air out their problems, or talk about them or bring them out in the open to deal with. Avery's boxed all their pain up, and ignored it, or carried it around like an anchor.

And April didn't always know how to help.

"Daddy!" Riley shouted when the door opened and Jackson slumped into the room and settled onto one of the plush leather couches across from April. "Papapa has a dolly in his desk!"

"Wow," he replied, clearly trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. "That's kind of weird..."

The set of Jackson's jaw and the way he only half turned to examine their daughter's find, made April suspicious. Usually, no matter how boring or inane something the kids wanted to share with him, Jackson put on a very engaged front. Today he seemed dejected and walled up. Certainly disconnected from the child in front of him. His gaze was unfocused and his throat muscles flexed with every tense swallow.

Jackson was clearly deep in thought.

"Hey Riley," April suggested quietly, closing her fingers tightly around the battered set of dog tags. "Why don't you take the doll upstairs and show Gramma and Conner and Hannah? I bet you they haven't found anything as cool."

"Yeah!" the girl agreed, practically bolting for the door, before catching herself and taking more measured steps and carrying the old doll carefully to the hallway. "I bet they only find Papapa's old socks...I won't let Hannah hold her though. She's too fra-jingle."

"Good idea, sweetie."

April turned to face Jackson as soon as the door shut behind the bright child, trying to catch his gaze. He still seemed to be somewhere else, and she tilted her head in the same direction as his.

"Jackson?" she probed. "Are you okay? Is Harper worse?"

He surprised April by laughing harshly. Jackson's eyes were brimming with tears that didn't mesh with the forced guffaw that

"Jackson? Talk to me."

"He's on his death bed," her husband almost sneered. "He's on his deathbed and I'm with him, and I'm taking care of him and you know who he's asking for? Who is he begging to see?"

April bit her lip and looked down at her fist, and the small metal chain that hung down between her thumb and index finger. After all she'd stumbled upon already in one day, April was absolutely positive that she had no idea. In his delirium, Harper could want any number of lost people.

Jackson didn't seem to mind her non reply, because after a brief pause and another forced chuckle he answered his own question, "My Dad! He's asking for my father."

"Oh," April breathed in surprise.

In all her experiences with the old man, Harper had talked about his son with nothing less than contempt. He seemed to view Julian as a huge disappointment both to the profession of medicine and to the family as a whole. Where he had never talked about his lost friend or lost daughter, Harper had never been reluctant to share just how much of a failure he viewed Julian to be. April thought a lot of that was bravado. Julian leaving had likely wounded the old man deeply. As deeply as it had Jackson and her mother in law.

Sometimes it was easier to feel anger than hurt.

"Where's Julian?" Jackson spat, mimicking his grandfathers rattling wheeze. He pointed to his chest, " _I've_  been there the whole time and that's what he's asking about. Where's my son? I've tried to be everything my father wasn't and...it's doesn't even matter."

"Well, it does, Jackson. H-he's not lucid...he's just-"

"I know!" Jackson sighed, holding his head in his hands. "I know. I just...I guess I wish he was asking for me. Because...I am here. I'm here but I can't give him the one thing he wants."

April frowned sympathetically, "No one can give him that, Jackson. Don't beat yourself up. No one knows where your father is."

That much was true. Julian Avery had all but dropped off the map. His last known address was in Canada, but it was decades out of date. The only trace of him that April had ever seen was financial, when Catherine had helped her set up trust funds for the children, showing her just exactly how Jackson's and his father's trust funds worked as well. Julian had been drawing steadily from his own trust ever since he'd walked out on his family. Only he'd set that up to vanish as well. All the money was directly transferred to a bank in Switzerland, and after that it was impossible to trace.

As far as April could tell, the man had made every effort to stay as disconnected from his family as possible. There was no reason for Jackson to feel badly about that. Though it was clear that he did.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jackson hung his head and spoke so softly that April had to lean forward to hear him.

"I could...I could could know. But I blew it."

Confused, she made a face, "What do you mean? Blew what?"

"I-" Jackson looked up at her then, biting his lip and swallowing hard. "I mean, my Dad he...tried to-he sent me a couple of emails and then a letter but I deleted them and I blocked the sender and I shredded the letter and threw it away. I could have gotten his address. I could know how to bring him to Grandpa, but...I blew it."

April leaned back in her seat. She'd often wondered what would happen if Jackson's father ever did reach out to him. She understood her husband's righteous anger over the fact that Julian had abandoned him, and didn't blame him one bit for not having any interest in finding or reconnecting with the man. And if and when the absent man ever tried to return to Jackson's life, April had prepared herself to support Jackson in whatever decisions he made. She felt supremely lucky that her own father was and always had been dedicated to April, her mother, and her sisters. She could see how terrible it was  _not_  to have that.

April was just a little surprised to find that in the past her father in law had actually already tried to reach out to his son.

"When?" she asked. "It doesn't mean you blew anything. I mean, if he tried to reach out to you when you were younger, there's no guarantee he's living in the same-"

Jackson broke her gaze, "Uh,actually the emails were last year. And...well, um...the letter was about 3 months ago."

She blinked and let Private Clayon's tags slip out of her hands.  _3 months ago?_   _Last year?_ Julian Avery was a big force in Jackson's life. Whether by absence or by presence, he helped shape the husband that April knew.  _If_  she knew about it that is. Something flared up deep in her chest. Perhaps in different circumstances her anger might not be as acute. She didn't even really blame Jackson for the choices he made. Jackson was well within his rights to chose to blow off Julian Avery.

It was just...he hadn't so much as mentioned it to April. Not once. He hadn't turned to her for support in the decision. He'd never let her know that there was even a decision to make. He'd even shredded the evidence. A lie of omission was still a lie. They were supposed to be a team. They were supposed to be in this together. Maybe on a different day, this wouldn't have bothered April so much.

"Your Dad contacted you and you didn't tell me?"

Jackson scratched his neck uncomfortably. "Well I-I just don't want to deal with him. I still don't, if not for Grandpa...I wish I could give him that I guess. At the time I didn't know what Grandpa would want at the end. Hannah was really little and it was all kind of crazy and I didn't want to deal with my Dad. So I just-"

"So you just didn't tell me." It was April's turn to laugh humorlessly. On any other day, she might have been more okay with this.

But the day was already chalk full of family surprises. A sister of Catherine. A dead aunt of Jackson. A lost war friend of Harper. Clearly massively pivotal parts of her family member's lives that had never been important enough to share with April. Maybe she was never good enough to know. And now this? It was like the straw that broke the camel's back.

Her nostrils flared, "No one tells me anything! You  _decided_  not to tell me."

"April, it's not like that."

"Did you know that your mother has a sister named Caroline?"

"Uh...yes." Jackson shrugged. "I met her a few times when I was a kid, but she and my mom haven't talked in years."

She grimaced. As if that explained everything. As if that made it okay to omit.

"Do you know about your other aunt? Annalise?"

"I know she died of polio."

April threw her hands out in front of her. "Why not tell me?"

He winced, "I don't know! It's in the past. It doesn't matter."

"But it does, Jackson!" she groaned, holding up Harper's cigar box of secrets. "It does matter!"

"I-" he struggled, clearly unsure how to handle April's outburst.

"Do you know what's in this box?" she brandished the box in the air, gesturing at it's contents on the desk in front of her. "Your grandfather's keepsakes of people he loved and lost. Pictures of his daughter and his wife. Locks of hair. Favorite toys. I mean, he's got some guy's dog tags in here that I am pretty sure are covered with dried blood. These are the people that helped make Harper who he is. There are the people he cherished. I've known him for ten years, and I've learned more about him in a day, from box of stuff, than you or your mom or even Harper himself could share with me. All while he's in a hospital dying, so it's like super irrelevant to our entire relationship."

Jackson's eyes flicked across the stacks of pictures sadly. He reached across the desk and picked up the dog tags, turning them over carefully in his palm. It was very clear that he had missed out on getting to know many very important things about his grandfather as well. And all too late to make a different in their relationship.

"I try and I try to live up to everything the Avery legacy demands! I do my best to help. I go to board meetings more than you do, I allow my children to appear in publications, I go to all these fundraising events...I try to do everything I can to make sure that we're all happy and healthy and I just...with you and Harper and your Mom, I feel like I hit a glass wall. I can see that there's more but can't go any further because no one will let me in."

April ducked her head and furiously wiped a tear that escaped the corner of her eye. The frustration inside her felt like it was running through her veins.

"I love you, April..." Jackson said thickly, cradling the dog tags against his chest as though they could protect him from his feelings. "We never meant for it to be like this. I never meant for you to feel this way."

Feeling suddenly drained, she slumped in her seat and ran a hand across her belly, smiling faintly when the baby twisted in response.

"I know."

April now understood that there was a difference between trust and love. There were countless actions and memories she could conjure in her mind that proved to her that bother her husband and mother in law loved her very much. She didn't doubt Jackson or Catherine's love for her.

But sometimes, especially on days like this, April doubted their trust. 


	7. Chapter 7

_Great Expectations_

Conner Avery always knew that his parent's marriage was built on a complicated web of compromises.

His mother was religious. His father wasn't. His mother could talk the ears off of a stranger. His father could watch an entire basketball game in near total silence. Often it felt like his mom worried too much about them, and his father too little. All the Avery children had learned early that Jackson and April were two  _very_  different people. (Occasionally the differences between their parents could be exploited to a child's advantage, as a matter of fact.)

To be together as long as the Averys had, compromises were essential. Carefully orchestrated compromises, all stacked on top of each other over the years, end on end. All piled up like a house of cards. In perfect balance.

Most of the time.

What Conner didn't know, up until this point, was just how many of those compromises had to do with  _him_.

"So..." he began tentatively, resting his gaze on Jackson with a small pout. "I can't go to the training camp with my team?"

Fortunately, the little kids were so pleased with the arrival of their post church waffles that for once none of them were being loud mouths. (Knowing his father's firm lack of belief in a higher power, Conner was also certain that church was one of his parent's  _big_  compromises) Sometimes it was hard for Conner to get a word in edgewise with three younger siblings. Or to get either of his parents full attention. If Riley wasn't arguing, Hannah was giggling like a banshee, or Simon was telling some rambling story.

It was even hard for his parents to get a word in edgewise a lot of the time.

But right now, thanks to syrup covered waffles, Conner had a free and clear chance to make his case. And in this case, if there was one of his parents he thought he could sway to his side of things, it would be his father. April tended to be the stricter parent, while Jackson was more laid back. Plus, his father understood about sports, and training, and being on a  _team_.

"I  _have_  to go with you to Boston? This year?"

Watching Jackson wince, the teen felt his own face fall. Conner and his dad understood each other. Or at least, that's what he'd thought.

It was his mother who gave him the straight answer, with a small sigh, "Yes honey, you do."

"Like I said, it's a way for you to kind of start learning the ropes," his dad explained carefully. "You sit in on the meetings. Read some of the paperwork, get a feel for the situation and how the Foundation works and then your mom or Grandma or I will sit down with you after and talk about it."

When it came to certain things, especially stuff that had to do with 'the Foundation' (an almost mythic entity as far as Conner and his siblings were concerned, right up there with Jesus, the Celtics, and the holy grail of words,  _surgery_ ), Conner and his father did not always understand each other. It was pretty much one of the few areas in which Conner  _didn't_  understand his dad.

On the one hand, Conner thought his father didn't like doing all the stuff he had to do for the Harper Avery Foundation one bit. He saw that his dad seemed uncomfortable at the big fundraising galas. He knew that his mom attended more foundation meetings throughout the year than his dad. Though, Conner always figured that had to do with the fact that his father was also chairman of the Grey Sloan board and was a bit busier than his mother. But at the same time, it wasn't like his dad didn't complain and jokingly try to convince her to stay every time she had to go to Boston.

Conner saw the way Jackson bristled whenever some stranger asked the all too common, "Avery, huh? And you're a surgeon too? Ever hear about that big medical award?" Gramma often told him that she sometimes thought his dad would rather just pretend he was some  _other_  Avery and not have to deal with the fact that Papapa had been one of the most famous surgeons  _ever_ (in the history of surgeons!).

But on the other hand, his dad was always the first person to try to tap into the influence and resources of the Harper Avery Foundation to help patients or doctors whenever he could. When Conner was 9, his parents had started to allow him to go with them to some of the galas and brunches and other fundraising events. To start him getting used to it all. He especially enjoyed the late summer picnics put on by Grey Sloan Memorial in Gasworks park. He couldn't count how many stories he'd heard from burn patients or dog maul survivors or any other number of strangers explaining how something his father had done, using the Foundation influence, awards, or money, had somehow factored in to saving their lives. Stories of private planes, special doctors, and pro bono procedures seemed to erupt almost as soon as anyone at the picnic found out just exactly who Conner was.

"Your father is great man," they'd say, ambushing him outside of the bounce house or on his way to the hot dog table. "He doesn't get enough credit. I wouldn't be here with out him."

Conner supposed that Jackson didn't mind that part of dealing with the Harper Avery Foundation. His dad always wanted to try to help people, and because of the Foundation, he was often able to do just that. His father also seemed to be intent on teaching Conner and his siblings just exactly how it all worked. Almost as much as Gramma.

Almost.

Jackson continued, "I did the same thing when I was your age. It'll be easy. No pressure. You don't even have to vote or anything yet."

No pressure, eh? Conner crossed his arms and set his jaw. He knew it was childish to pout, but he couldn't help it.

At this very moment, he totally understood the reasons why his father might dislike the responsibilities of being an Avery. Helping people and saving lives was one thing, but it was pretty irritating when dealing with the Foundation made it seem like you were missing out on your own ambitions. Right now, Conner understood that very well. It was because he was an Avery and had to sit in on these stupid meetings that he would likely miss the most important bonding and training event his swim team might ever have in his whole budding high school athletic career. He was a freshman now, half way through to being a sophomore. This wasn't in middle school anymore, and the possibility of being cut was very real.

And compared to the small junior high Conner had left behind, Seattle Preparatory School was a  _much_  larger and less kind pond.

Bailey Shepherd had told him that the coaches at Seattle Prep had no qualms about letting go of under-performing underclass players. Signing up for the summer training camp would be his ticket to stay. Being on a team was both integral to Conner's health, but also to his acceptance in high school. He'd  _always_  been on sports teams. He'd never been cut.

It wasn't like Conner didn't recognize that learning how the Harper Avery Foundation worked was important. He knew it was important, and he knew that he would someday have a prominent role in it's operation and governance. (Gramma was  _always_  quick to remind him) And even though he generally made a point  _not_  to think about it all that much, he wasn't exactly opposed to having that be his future.

After all, it's who Conner was  _supposed_  to be. That's what Averys did, right?

They did well in school and in sports, became surgeons, ran the Foundation and helped other people become surgeons. It's what Papapa wanted. It's what his grandmother wanted. It seemed to be what his parents wanted too. Conner didn't have plans to let any of them down any more than he already had with his average grades, average athletic ability, and larger than average rib cage.

He didn't want to make them worry about him any more than they already had.

Plus, they all turned to him anyway. At least it felt like they did sometimes. Mom and Dad and Gramma. Even though Conner wasn't as outgoing as Hannah or as thoughtful as Simon, or anywhere  _near_  as smart as Riley. They turned to him as an extra set of hands with his siblings now and expected him to be the one to lead in the future. Because he was the eldest.

So Conner would do it. The surgery, the schmoozing, the scheming. He'd do all of it.

Someday.

It was just that  _this_ summer, he really  _really_  wanted to go with the Seattle Prep swim team to their training camp.

Because it wasn't just any training camp. It was  _Michael Phelps._  A gold medal former  _Olympic_  athlete who would be running the lessons. One of the best swimmers in the history of the world would be sharing all his secrets, tips, and tricks with Conner and his fellow teammates. He figured, if there was anyone who could help him become a better swimmer, it would be Michael Phelps.

Conner was completely comfortable in the water, and easily knew his way around in a swimming pool (that was part of his physical therapy as a child), but he was definitely  _not_  built like a swimmer. He wasn't particularly fast, he wasn't aerodynamic, and he  _never_  looked graceful when he dived.

What Conner lacked in actual athletic ability, he liked to think he made up for in dedication. He was always the first person on the green or in the pool and the last to leave. He put in more time at the gym than most of the other freshman and he studied the sports he played more than anyone he knew. He always listened to eactly what his coaches said and tried hard not to goof off during practice. All to make up for the physical deficiencies he knew he had.

So sure, Conner had made the swim team, but only just.

He knew he was sickly when he was little. Conner knew his childhood had been less than easy for his parents. He remembered hospitals and surgeries and oxygen masks. He had vague and sometimes terrifying memories of his tearful worried parents staring down at him from opposite sides of a metal crib whenever he came to after a chest procedure. He remembered feeling pain. Conner might play sports now, but he was still asthmatic and had surgery scars and malformed ribs due to the exposure to chemicals in the uterus before he was even born. He couldn't do contact sports. Bailey Shepherd played basketball, football and even hockey, but all of those were too dangerous for Conner to play in the real world.

So tennis, track, golf, swimming and crew were best for him. Even if they weren't quite as cool.

The operations and therapy when he was younger had helped Conner to grow into the fairly healthy 14 ( _and 3/4_ ) year old he was today, but he still wasn't exactly what any of his sports options needed in an athlete. Or what he was pretty sure the rest of the world expected in an Avery. His chest was huge and square and no matter how much he grew, the proportions never evened out. He wasn't tall and muscular like his dad.

Most of the time, Conner thought he looked like the playing card knights in Alice and Wonderland. Big square chest, short skinny arms. He'd only made the swim team because he knew the strokes and could hold his breath. He certainly wasn't the guy on the team who anyone counted on to actually win races. Now, without the camp, it didn't seem likely he'd learn the skills to survive the first round of cuts.

Hopes for summer swim camp dashed, Conner swallowed hard and looked down at his plate, using the fingers of his left hand to pick and twist a stubborn hangnail. He slumped in his seat.

So much for that. He was going to have to go to Boston. His parents would  _make_  him go.

Watching out of the corner of his eye, Conner could tell by the tight lipped expression on his mother's face as she carefully cut a small squares of waffle on Simon's plate, that in this situation, for this particular family rite of passage, somewhere along the line  _she_  had probably compromised.

Big time.

A loud and resounding ding accompanied her every cut.

Then again, Conner knew that April probably didn't want him to go on the swim trip by himself-  _without_  her or another family chaperon- so even if she still wasn't 100% happy with the fact that Conner now had to participate in Harper Avery Foundation meetings, she was likely relieved to be absolved of actually flat out telling him that he couldn't go with the rest of his team. Conner knew his mom could (and did) lay down the law when it was necessary, but she clearly didn't really like to do so, which often ran up against her overly worried nature.

To say his mother was overprotective was putting things lightly. He'd never been on any sort of team trip without his mom or dad or a grandparent chaperoning. Which would be impossible for the swim camp because it was the same week as the Harper Avery Foundation annual fiscal year meeting.

And his parents  _never_  missed that.

Conner scrunched up his face and groaned, "But really? That's  _so_  lame. If I am not even gonna vote or anything, what difference does it make if I go this year? I could go next year and it'll be the exact same-"

"You know that's the deal," his mom shrugged, glancing coolly toward her husband out of the corner of her eye. "You'll be 15 by July and that's when Averys have to start going to the meetings. Everyone seems to be  _very_  inflexible on that."

Conner's eyes flicked to Jackson, who sipped at his coffee and scowled. There was a dig somewhere in there. Probably toward Dad.

 _Definitely_  toward Gramma.

"Will I hafta go when I turn 15?" Hannah asked, head tilted in confusion and spinning her fork in one hand.

Simon giggled, bouncing happily in his booster seat, "I don't wanna go! I wanna drive a waffle truck! I don't hafta go!"

"We all do," Riley replied in a mumble, taking a large bite of waffle and chewing decisively. "It's not like we get a choice."

Unable to quite get a handle on the emotions that overtook him, Conner blinked rapidly and averted his gaze from his parents. He sniffed. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to growl or cry.

Neither was an acceptable option.  _Especially_  in public. Melting down in tears or anger in public was unbecoming of an Avery. Gramma always said so.

"I know you're disappointed," April said, frowning in sympathy. She reached across the table and rubbed his arm soothingly, clearly putting on her best 'get excited' face. "It won't be so bad though. A lot of the Foundation stuff can be kind of fun."

Conner thought she was better with littler kids. He generally did better with people who did not treat him like a little kid. Mom's 'excited face' didn't really change his mind anymore.

His dad snorted and nudged his wife playfully, loudly whispering in her ear, "Not everyone finds math as fun as you do, babe."

Jackson leaned across the table and kissed April's cheek, making her blush.

Conner wrinkled his nose.

His parents were two very different people, and that could cause a lot of friction, but they also clearly loved each other, bickering and teasing as often as they seemed to actually argue. They got under one and other's skin, in good and bad ways. Conner and his siblings had seen it enough to know. It was comforting in a way. Even if Mom and Dad fought, they always seemed to figure things out again before it got too scary. Conner could only recall one or two instances where he was actually frightened about his parents fighting. The last time he'd felt worried was when Papapa had died. Conner wasn't sure that their fight had been resolved exactly, because there were still plenty of times his mother's side eye focused in like a laser on his dad, and other times Dad ground his teeth or walked out of the room to get away from Mom.

But Conner still felt like whatever the beef between his parents was, it had faded a lot after Simon's birth. It still simmered a bit beneath the surface sometimes, but mostly they seemed to keep it at bay. He figured April and Jackson loved each other too much to let a disagreement get in the way.

And sometimes, like now, they kissed and stuff too. Sometimes in public. Gramma never seemed to find that unbecoming, but Conner disagreed.

Gross.

Hiding a small grin, April gave Jackson a withering look and returned her attention to Conner. She continued firmly, "It  _can_  be fun."

"Not as fun as Michael Phelps!"

Conner ducked his head, surprised by his own outburst. He didn't often talk back to his parents, and certainly not in the accusatory tone he'd just used. Especially with his mother. Sometimes April drove Conner crazy! But he  _never_  snapped at his mom, because she seemed to take everything to heart, much more so than his dad.

He'd seen her reduced to tears over arguments with his sister Riley. She was only 9, but Conner had been on the receiving end of his sister's tongue enough times to know first hand that Riley had a knack for figuring out what places hurt, and she had a temper like none of the rest of them. Even when it was just something said in the heat of the moment and she didn't really mean it, Riley's words sometimes still hurt. Because she was ridiculously smart and often, painful as it was, a lot of what she said was actually true, and that could make it hurt all the more. Dad could just shrug it off. Tamp it down. Section it off. He was good at that.

April on the other hand? It took her more time to deal. Conner too.

Which made him feel awful and made him more conscious of his own behavior. She was sensitive and Conner knew what that felt like so he never wanted to hurt her.

Dad always said, "Well, you know your mother." Pretty much his go to answer about anything his wife did.

Only sometimes, to Conner, that didn't feel exactly true. Mom was different than Dad. And different from Gramma. Conner loved his mother and he knew she loved him very much, but he didn't always feel like he knew her. He felt like he knew only parts. He didn't always know what to say to her. It was weird. What do you talk to your mom about anyway?

Conner wasn't exactly a big conversationalist to begin with and his Mom's attempts at conversation often bored him or left him feeling pestered. April was almost relentlessly perky and her former means of engaging with Conner in his childhood, like tickling his stomach or peppering kisses and raspberries on his cheeks, weren't exactly the kind of thing he wanted to deal with now.

He wasn't a little kid anymore.

She wasn't really into sports like Dad, and she wasn't as overbearing or as inspiring with Conner about 'his future' in the way his Gramma always was. Heck, a lot of the time Conner found it was much easier to talk to his parent's friends and co-workers, like Uncle Owen or Ben or Alex, than it was to talk to his mom.

Would she understand his plan to try to up his mile run average time? Would she understand the weird feelings he got around Mei Shepherd? April always came and cheered the loudest at his sports events, but as competitive as he knew his mother was about certain things ( _especially_  with his 3 aunts), Conner was pretty sure she'd scream just as loudly and with just as much pride if he won or lost. And Conner really wasn't even sure he wanted his mom to know anything about how he may or may not feel about his childhood friend. April still seemed to think he was a little boy.

Sometimes Conner worried that he made his mom sad.

It was a good thing the younger kids were so loud and needy. Conner could help April with Riley, Hannah, and Simon and his sisters and brother would fill the room with conversation. More often than not, silence stretched between Conner and his mom when they were alone.

That hadn't always been the the case.

He remembered being little (before any of his siblings) and taking long walks with his mother through all the long corridors of Grey Sloan Memorial. To help him build stamina and lung capacity. His memories were fuzzy but pleasant. She'd told him stories about animals on the farm or patients she was treating and he'd told her everything that seemed to pop into his head at the time. It hadn't been hard to be a conversationalist back then. As a child, Conner could remember longing for the walks with Mom. They were the favorite part of his daycare day, just like taking his evening swim with his Dad had been the highlight of the evenings.

Back then it was just the three of them.

In time, Conner and Jackson had transitioned to playing video games or visiting the putting green together, whereas Conner and April's time had faded away into the craziness of dealing with 3 younger children in the family, replaced with nothing.

He missed their walks.

Though there were parts of his mom that seemed almost foreign to Conner, parts of his father seemed almost inhuman. Impossible to live up to. Legendary. He was old, but even Conner could see that his dad was still in ridiculously good shape. And exceptionally good looking. And a record holder in both his high school and the Harvard basketball teams. And a famous plastic surgeon.

The list went on.

Dad never asked for help or accepted it from Conner when he offered. Not with important stuff. Dad would let you help him rake leaves, carry in groceries from the car, or hide from Gramma but he  _never_ let Conner help when he was sick or sad. Jackson barely even let anyone see him when he was sick or sad. Never when he was vulnerable.

Not even when Papapa died. And Conner knew his dad had been devastated over that. In the ensuing years since the old man's death, Jackson had been different. More subdued. More likely to do what Gramma asked him. More likely to drink a little too much beer at basketball games. Or at other times. Too many times it seemed, even nearly 5 years later.

And Conner knew why.

As he understood it, Harper Avery was pretty much Jackson's father figure. Conner and the kids called Richard Webber 'Grandpa' (even when Gramma was fighting with him) but they all knew it wasn't biologically true. He knew his real grandfather on the Avery side had left and that Papapa and Gramma were all the family on that side that his dad really had. For himself, there was no way Conner could be as contained and calm about the potential loss of his own parental figure. He almost shuddered at the thought. Frustrating as they were sometimes (now being a prime example), Conner wanted both his parents to be around for a  _long_  time.

In this respect, his mom was different than his dad. Conner didn't always know what to say to his mom, but she always felt like a real person. Someone who made mistakes and wasn't always right. She wasn't someone Conner really worried about living up to, but he felt like that was a good thing. It was hard enough trying to live up to Dad and Gramma and Papapa.

April good naturedly shared pictures of the fizzy haired, glasses wearing, gangling high schooler she'd been with Conner and his siblings when they were nervous about school. She soothed them through their disappointments by telling them that about her own past failures and how she'd bounced back better than ever. She made them feel like everything would work okay, no matter how embarrassed or bad at math or awkward you happened to be. April gladly accepted blankets, sloppily made get-well cards, and lukewarm soup when she got sick. His mom let Conner be there for her when she needed him.

Like when it came to wrangling the little kids. The older he got, the more Conner felt like his mother trusted him to help her with his younger siblings. She'd slowly given him more and more responsibility, and this year had even let him take care of Riley, Hannah, and Simon alone for a few hours for the first time.

Which he appreciated. It made him feel like he was needed. Useful. Worthy. Not like a weird awkward wanna be jock with less than perfect grades and a malformed rib cage.

He didn't know or understand everything about his mom, but he knew a lot of her most important characteristics. And even if he felt at a loss for words around her more and more these days, Conner always knew his mother loved him fiercely. Just the way he was, even if he wasn't the top of his class or the best on the team.

And she trusted him. Much more than Dad or Gramma seemed to.

They were all about legacy, but in a way that left Conner feeling micromanaged. Especially when it came to anything academic or foundation related. The minute he got a lower grade than expected his Gramma would call him from Boston and talk to him about the need to maintain focus and concentration. And when he got benched or lost a race, Conner's father would always take him aside to try to pinpoint what went wrong, whether it had to do with his breathing, and how to fix it next time.

His mother expected him to be responsible, but didn't breathe down his neck to ensure that he was, unless he asked for help. She had a tendency to physically hover, but at least she let him try stuff on his own first.

So, Conner tried hard  _not_  to snap at his mom. But sometimes, you just had to make a point. He  _really_ didn't want to start going to Harper Avery Foundation meetings this summer. He wanted to go to camp with his friends.

It was like he couldn't stop himself.

He continued to scowl at his mom. "There's no way that a stupid meeting will be just as fun as swim camp. You're just trying to make it sound better and failing miserably. You say I have to go, so I have to go. Don't try to make me excited about it. Because you can't, Mom. Just save us all some time and give it a rest!"

The rest of his family seemed as shocked at Conner's attitude as he was. Riley rolled her eyes. Simon pouted and wrapped his hands around their mother's arm, placing his own small body in front of hers, almost protectively. Hannah put down her fork and watched eagerly eyes bobbing back and forth like she was watching a tennis match, and whispering "Ooooh!"

Blinking twice, April leaned back, tilting her head to one side and shaking it in disbelief.

But Jackson watched Conner with a softer expression. "Bud, don't take it out on Mom. I'm sorry. It's a tough lesson to learn, but we all have to do things we don't like, and sometimes it means we'll have to give up something we really do enjoy. Swim camp is  _not_  mandatory.  _This_  is. It's just part of being an Avery."

Conner didn't get it. His father never seemed to like any of this stuff anyway. He'd heard his father complain and argue with Gramma about it enough to understand that it wasn't something Jackson always enjoyed. So Conner couldn't understand why his dad was so intent on pushing the legacy of it all on him too. Right now.

He scowled, "I never asked to  _be_  an Avery."

He hadn't asked for any of it. The legacy of the family. The responsibility to help with his siblings. The freak like health issues and strange body shape. Most of the time, Conner didn't exactly blame his parents for how he was but right now, he kind of did. For all of it, the legacy, the health issues, the fear. In this moment, Conner felt like he was being denied. He didn't ask for much, (as far as he could see) and now, the one time he was asking, April and Jackson were saying no.

His father's nostrils flared and his tone became sharp, "You're coming to Boston. That's it. End of discussion."

A lump formed in Conner's throat and he avoided both his parents eyes. They didn't understand the stakes.

It would be like the first pebble in an avalanche. First Conner would fail at the swim team, then crew, then track and on and on. He'd be finished.

Without sports, Bailey and the rest of the upperclassmen would see how dorky Conner could really be. His friends didn't currently tease him about his body (very much anyway), but if he got kicked off of a team for under-performing, they'd all know it was because of his health background. It would probably become open season when it came to ribbing. If he didn't have sports, Mei Shepherd would never give him a second glance as more than a friend.

His mom and dad probably thought he was overreacting, but playing sports was like his cloak against the world. Wrapped in sports Conner was acceptable. Likable.

Sports made him  _normal_.

Gently tapping the tips of his fingers along the raised scar that ran down the center of his chest, Conner still said nothing, only lifting his gaze to meet his father's in a raging and disappointed glare. Jackson didn't blink and his eyes were firm and steely, and he knew there was no way out of this. Today, he really did not want to be an Avery.

"Honey," April began quietly, trying to calm the situation down. Just like always. "Boston is not going to be-"

"I'm from Boston!" Simon piped up randomly, as he so often did, breaking some of the tension between Conner and his parents.

Riley snorted, "That's where Dad grew up and where his family is from. It's where Gramma lives. We're  _all_  from Boston."

"Nah uh!" the little boy old shook his head firmly, pointing to the center of his chest. " _I_  was borned there."

"We know you were," their father replied in bemused exasperation, rolling his eyes and shoving a mouthful of waffle into his mouth. "How could we forget? We were all in Boston when you were born."

"Yup," Simon nodded. "I 'member."

Hannah nudged their dad, sharing an amused expression, "No one remembers being born, silly goose!"

Despite the mood, Conner chuckled.

Not like Simon could actually remember being born in Boston, but boy did he love to tell everyone the story. Since not being born in Seattle made him different from the rest of his siblings. Simon liked to follow his own path. Conner certainly couldn't find the same amount of pride in being different. After all, his own birth story involved being born with abnormalities and almost dying.

When he was younger Conner had prayed for a brother. He'd wanted a side kick, confidant who would listen to him and play tennis with him and just in general think Conner was cool. No matter what. Waiting for the births of both his little sisters, Conner had wished and wished that they would be boys (in Hannah's case he'd wished right up until the very end because his parents had opted to wait to find out the gender). The fact that it had taken ten years to get any sort of result had pretty much proved to Conner that his Dad and Gramma really had the right idea when if came to God; not that he'd tell his mom how he felt.

And it wasn't like he didn't love his little sisters. Conner loved Riley and Hannah. Even when they were annoying. Who better in the house to play Mario Kart with, than his youngest sister Hannah? Next to Conner himself, she was the best out of the family at it. Better than Dad even. And when he needed someone to bounce ideas off of for a book report, Riley was his go to person. Because in recent years he'd discovered that she probably had not only read the book already, but also could tell him stuff about the author that would impress his teachers.

However, all he'd wanted during those years growing up was a little brother.

Now? Well, Conner didn't have buyers remorse exactly, but he didn't always know what to make of Simon. Because the little boy did follow Conner around sometimes (which turned out to be way more annoying than Conner'd expected it to be). And Simon tried to play tennis even though he was still too small and didn't really seem to like it much. Both Conner's sisters displayed way more interest in sports than Simon. Riley played soccer and Hannah danced and loved to golf with Conner and their dad. His younger brother on the other hand, preferred playing dolls with Hannah, singing in the shower or in church, and digging around in the backyard for bugs.

At least, Simon  _did_  seem to think that Conner was cool. But it didn't satisfy Conner they way he'd thought it would when he was little.

Maybe they were too far apart in age. Ten years was a lot. Simon was  _so_  childish. And he was perfect looking. A little odd, but just elegantly built as Dad. No surgeries, no asthma, no scars, and perfectly normal ribs.

"I'm not a silly!" Simon shouted adamantly. "I remember being borned in Boston."

"Oh sweetie," April chuckled, rubbing the boy's shoulders gently and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "You ask to hear the story so much you probably only  _feel_  like you remember because you've heard it so many times."

"I think Mom's right kiddo," Jackson agreed.

Having a brother wasn't exactly all Conner thought it was cracked up to be, but he did think that the little boy had gone a long way in helping his parents through whatever dark patch they'd encountered that summer in Boston. The summer his great grandfather died. That had been a hard time for the entire family, and Conner felt like Simon's arrival added some much needed brightness.

He'd been old enough that his parents had let him come into the room (much to his sisters' rage) when his brother was born. They all stayed with April until it was time to push, when Gramma took them out. But his mom had looked at Conner and given him a choice because he was ten and had been so worked up over getting a brother for years.

"Do you wanna stay or do you wanna go?"

Despite his discomfort in hospitals, Conner's answer was yes. And it was weird and a little gross and kind of terrifying, but also one of the most amazing things Conner had ever seen. Simon was small and screaming. His mother and even his father had cried.

And Conner had been the third person ever to hold his little brother.

"We was all in Boston, cuz of Daddy's Daddy's Daddy," Simon counted up the generations on his fingers and held them up high. "That's how come he was Papapa. 3 Pa's...and everybody went to Boston because it was his time to go to heaven."

Simon never actually met Papapa.

It was a little creepy actually. Harper Avery had been at death's door for the better part of the summer, and finally, early one morning in mid-August they'd gotten the call from the hospital that time was almost up. And so they'd all gone to the old man's room and held his hands to say goodbye before it was too late. Mom had said a prayer, Hannah hadn't really understood what was going on, and Conner wasn't really sure his Dad and Gramma even wanted to be there, they looked so uncomfortable. As uncomfortable as Conner even. But thinking back, he thought it would be accurate to say that the old man had gotten calmer with the family around him that morning.

Not peaceful exactly, given how hard it was for Papapa to breathe at that point, but definitely not scared.

And then the goodbyes were done, Gramma and Dad had stayed with Harper for the rest of it while Conner's mom took the kids back to Papapa's house for breakfast. Then the rest of the day started off pretty normal.

That is, until Conner found his mom in the big bedroom packing a duffle bag and groaning in the pain of a contraction, during his sister's nap time.

She'd told him to help her call a taxi. A  _taxi._

"Mama? You're going to the hospital alone?"

"Yes," April had said absently, closing her eyes in the wave of another contraction. "And then we'll call the housekeeper and see if she can watch you and your sisters for a while so we can let Dad and Gramma stay with Papapa until he..."

Her words trailed off in a moan.

Conner had moved to her side instantly, slipping her arm around his shoulders, for once finding use in his extra broad frame to support her weight, "You think Dad would be happy to know I let you go alone?"

"At the moment, I don't know what will make your Dad happy," his mother had snapped. Cheerful on the surface, but with an undeniable edge. "And frankly, right now all I care about is getting this baby out of me."

Fair enough.

He'd heard them fighting some of the nights since they'd been in Boston for Papapa, but even at age 10, Conner was pretty sure that no matter who was mad a who for whatever reason, there was no way in hell that his father would want his mother to go to the hospital alone.

So, as a matter of course, he'd taken things into his own hands. In lieu of an taxi, he'd called his Gramma. And she'd arranged an ambulance that took all of them in to  _her_  hospital. The Brigham and Women's.

By the time Mom, Conner, and his sisters arrived, Papapa had already died, so Dad and Gramma just made it to the hospital in time from Boston Memorial. Whatever the fight was, it was clearly not that important because his mom had burst in to tears and reached out her arms the moment his dad had walked into the room.

 _Happy_  tears.

And so the whole family had all had truly bizarre experience of being present for the process of death and the process of birth in the very same day. Simon Avery was born literally hours after Harper Avery died. A near dizzying experience of sadness and joy.

Conner didn't need to hear his brother's rambling and moderately embellished story of how he was born in Boston, or how Daddy was almost late and almost missed it, or how he was convinced he got to say hi to Papapa as they crossed paths. Simon also believed that Papapa was in heaven looking after his recently expired carnival goldfish named Mo; further proof that the little boy had never actually met his formidable great grandfather.

The version of Harper Avery that Simon had in his head was a lot nicer than the man Conner had known as a child. In life, Papapa had intimidated him.

Conner was there when his brother was born. He knew what had happened. He'd heard the story many times. And at the moment he didn't want to think about or deal with Boston in any context. It felt like Boston was ruining his life.

So, for the rest of their traditional Sunday waffle breakfast, Conner tuned out the rest of his family as they chattered on and on. He had to do it sometimes. Tune out and shut out. Especially when he was mad. It wasn't like anyone would really notice he was giving them the silent treatment anyway.

They never did.

* * *

Once Simon finished his yammering, Hannah took up the mantle. Then Riley. And Mom. Conner spent the rest of the meal, picking listlessly at his food trying to pretend he was somewhere else entirely. Pretending he was  _someone_  else entirely.

Someone who never worried about getting kicked of teams or about people liking him. Someone who didn't have anything to live up to or to take over. Someone who didn't have anyone expecting greatness from him.

His daydreaming was interrupted when, toward the end of their breakfast, his sister Riley abruptly stood up from the table, "I gotta go to the bathroom."

Always quick to copy her big sister, Hannah shot out of her seat. "Me too!"

"That's a good idea," April said, tapping Simon on the shoulders and helping him out of his booster seat. "You should try the potty too, honey."

Casting a near mutinous look toward the rest of her family and crossing her arms, Riley strode ahead of her mother and siblings, muttering sarcastically, "Oh yes, by all means, let's everyone go...in pack, a 'family pack'...like always."

Conner watched blankly as his little brother's hand flashed out and slid two of the crayons that came with the children's menu into his pocket. Mom didn't seem to notice. Normally he would mention it, since his brother had a habit of stowing lots of things in his pockets and then forgetting about it. And his Mom, for all her meticulousness when it came to chores, had a tendency to forget to check the pockets of pants before she ran the washer. Probably because she didn't really expect to find anything left behind. Crayons were sure to make a mess in the wash. Normally Conner would at least warn his mom, but today he just didn't feel like the crayons.

And in Simon's good church pants too. Shame.

Jackson smirked and gave his wife a nod, discretely gesturing toward his pocket, "Not quite the whole pack, Rifi. Conner and I can settle the bill and get the car warmed up..."

Noting her husband's warning, April chuckled ruefully, "Great."

As the rest of the family clamored off to the restrooms, Conner followed his father to the cash register. He crossed his arms and kept his head down as Jackson cheerfully paid the bill. He followed his father in silence through the chilly Seattle air to the car, sliding into his customary seat without so much as a glance toward his father.

"Are you done sulking?" Jackson asked after a beat, still facing forward, but trying to meet Conner's gaze in the rear view mirror.

"Not sulking."

"Really?" Jackson huffed so sharply that it made Conner wince. "Coulda fooled me. Grade A performance. Your Emmy nomination is on it's way."

Reluctantly, he uncrossed his arms and met his father's eyes in the mirror.

"Dad-"

"Look, I understand that you're frustrated. I even understand if you feel mad at me or the Foundation or whatever," his father cut him off, leaving no room for protest. "I get that. But you need to lay off the attitude. Especially with your mother. I won't tolerate another second of it. Do you understand? Not one  _more_  second."

"Sorry," Conner mumbled miserably.

"If it was up to her, you wouldn't have to go to any Foundation meetings until you're out of college."

Yes, age 22 seemed like a much better time to dive into his destiny. Hell, if Conner could throw in medical school on top of that, he'd even opt to buy a few more years. If the decision was  _his_. But it wasn't and for whatever reason, Jackson seemed set on throwing him int the water at 15.

He felt his lips fall into a pout and he picked at a loose thread on his seat, "Even just next year would be better..."

"Why? You might miss the training camp, but you'll still be on the team. I'm sure your coach will understand."

Preferring to watch the drizzle slide down the car window, Conner didn't answer.

"Conner," his father sighed, and it was clear that he was struggling to maintain his calm. "I know, you're disappointed, but this is really important. You learning what it's really like to be a Harper Avery Foundation Board member is important. It's important so you can get used to the life."

Important important important. What did that even mean anyway?

"But why, Dad?"

In the mirror, Conner saw his dad's forehead crease. His fingers tightly gripped the steering wheel, white knuckles standing out against the dark interior of the family SUV. Jackson tilted his head to one side and he rocked in his seat momentarily, before releasing his death grip on the wheel and turning back to face his son.

"Look, I'm not-I'm not good at explaining..." he paused to collect himself, before trying a different approach. "Your Gramma and Papapa got me started with this stuff at the same age, and I didn't want to go either, but in the end, I think it was for the best."

"You hate working with the Foundation," Conner mumbled.

"I admit, I don't always enjoy parts of it, sure. But don't hate it," Jackson explained quietly. "I really don't. And it was good that I learned how. It's a lot to deal with and I just want you to be prepared."

He paused again and scratched the side of his head, looking at Conner with guarded eyes.

"I know," Jackson said haltingly. "I don't talk much to you guys about...about my father."

Conner shrugged. Gramma had told him enough. "He left."

"That's true," Dad sniffed, as his eyes darted around the near empty car. "I don't think-I mean I don't know why he left really. I guess that's what I'd ask him if I could, but I think a big part of it was the Foundation. He couldn't handle it all. Being an Avery. Being a part of the Foundation. Being a surgeon. Being a-" his voice cracked. "Being a father."

That lined up with the bits and pieces Conner had heard about Julian Avery from his grandmother and great grandfather. Jackson really never talked about it much, and whatever April knew, she didn't really share it with the children either.

"My Dad didn't have preparation for any of this, for any of this. When he was your age, Papapa didn't even have a Foundation. I think learning this stuff when I did helped me in the long run. Even with as much prep as I got from your Gramma, working at the Harper Avery Foundation is hard. I don't want it to end up being harder so I just want to make sure you get off to the best possible start you can. That's why you have to go. Things need to start off on the right foot for you."

Conner gulped, head dropping in shame.

Did his father think he was weak like Julian? Did he think Conner too would crack under the pressure of being a grown up Avery? Was it because he got a B- in Biology last year? Or because he'd never been voted team captain?

Panic suddenly gripped his chest. What if he really was like the grandfather he'd never met? What happened to the whole 'no pressure' thing? What if he really did fail?

Jackson's voice prodded him from his racing thoughts, "Conner? Do you understand?"

Conner opened his mouth, searching his father's pleading blue eyes. He knew that answer that Jackson wanted to hear so that's the one he gave, even if it wasn't quite the one he felt in his heart.

"Yeah..."

"Good," the relief in Dad's voice was palpable and it made Conner gulp. "Good. You have  _so_  much potential, Bud. I'm so proud of everything you've accomplished. Only a frosh and on 3 teams? That's awesome. And trust me about this Foundation stuff. This will help you. Going to this meeting is the right thing."

In the face of all that praise, he felt he had to fess up to some of the truth.

"Dad? I...I'm not that good. On the swim team," Conner explained, cheeks flushing slightly. He could see his mother, his sisters and Simon emerging from the restaurant in good spirits, so the rest of his words came out in a rush.

"I'm not. I always come in last on the speed and form drills. Every single time, no matter how many times I practice. My shoulders are too wide and it slows me down in the water. It's not the same as when you and I in the pool when I was a kid, and it's not as easy as crew...Coach told us that cuts are coming. And that's probably going to be me, and I just thought it I went to the training camp I could learn enough to stay-I don't know...it's...it's Michael Phelps."

Jackson blinked in surprise and regarded his son carefully. He reached out a hand to Conner, not quite touching his right knee, fingers hovering in indecision. Just when he was about to speak the car doors flew open, as April, Simon and the girls all piled into the car. Hannah and Riley were, not surprisingly in some sort of argument (seemingly about syrup flavors), Simon was tearfully begging for his crayons to be returned and it was clear from the look on his Mom's face that she was flustered.

Unable to handle his father's thoughtful scrutiny anymore, and mindful of the man's words earlier in the conversation, Conner turned to his mother. He smiled at her and reached out to help his sister Hannah into her booster seat.

"Sorry," he whispered, fastening the seat clasp and double checking it was latched. "Really, I didn't mean to-"

After securing Simon in his place, on her way to her own seat in the front, April reached out and cupped Conner's cheek in a gentle caress. "I know. It's okay."

Except for the three youngest members of the Avery family, the ride down I-5 and towards home was largely silent. Riley, Hannah, and Simon carried on in their usual giggling, teasing, and chattering ways, which kept the ride from feeling totally awkward.

Pulling the car into park in the driveway, Jackson turned around in his seat to face Conner once again, that same thoughtful but slighting disconcerting expression still etched on his face.

"You know what?" he said eagerly. "We'll hire him."

"Hire who?" April asked in complete confusion.

"Michael Phelps," her husband explained, grinning at Conner. "Get you a private lesson."

Listening more intently than the younger two siblings, Riley's jaw dropped as realization set in. Conner's face lit up and his chest felt lighter. He leaned forward in the seat and gaped at his Dad.

April scowled,  _"What?"_

"If he does camps for a fee, I'm sure he could be persuaded to come and swim with Conner for a price too."

"Really, Dad?"

Conner felt almost giddy. This was the part of being an Avery that he definitely  _liked._

His mother groaned, "Jackson, I really don't think-"

"It's important to him," Dad reasoned. "This way he could still go to the meeting and learn the same as his teammates from an Olympic athlete. Paying the man for a private lesson is certainly not outside of our reach."

"But-" Mom sputtered.

Conner found his fingers wrapping around his mom's arm. "Mama, please?"

He could tell from the way her muscles tensed and the way she chewed on the corner of her lip that April was  _very_  conflicted. She didn't usually let them go for overly extravagant experiences.

"Well, of course I don't want you to miss out on anything but-"

"Please?" Conner begged.

Jackson watched his wife carefully, "April..."

She sighed and held up a finger, "He has to earn it...he has to really work to keep up his GPA and to help out and..."

"Is that a yes, Mom?"

Smiling sadly, his mother rested her fingers on top of his hand, giving the smallest of nods. That was all Conner needed though. He immediately beamed and pumped his fists into the air.

Here was another compromise. Another compromise about him. One that made him happy.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Riley rolled her eyes at Conner's reaction, but Hannah clapped and shouted right along with him. Simon giggled, kicking his feet against his car seat and regarding his family with bright eyes as he spoke slurring his r's.

"We're really rich huh?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Gray Hair and Wisdom Highlights_

Catherine Avery was a proud woman.

There was absolutely no way around that. Not that she'd want to find one really. Catherine's pride had been her life-long companion. It had outlasted many people. Caroline would say that pride drove a wedge between them, but Catherine found it had been a more reliable support than many people over the years. Her sister, Julian, lovers, and friends.

Together, Catherine and her pride had weathered many a storm.

She'd always been proud of her intellect. She was proud of her accomplishments as a surgeon. Hell, she'd been incredibly proud to become a physician in the first place. She was proud of her accomplishments as a leader in the medical field. She was proud to continue to play such an important role in the prominent Avery family even though her initial connection to that family, Julian, had long since left her behind. She was also proud of the accomplishments of her son and daughter in law. She was proud of the growing list of accomplishments of her four beautiful grandchildren.

Catherine's pride did not take well to being wounded.

In fact, she'd never responded well to any perceived slight that she felt diminished her dignity. Even as a little girl. The fact that now, in this instance, it was her own body that had betrayed her drove Catherine crazy. Because she knew that at her age, matters were likely only going to get worse. For the truly elderly, a broken hip was often a harbinger of the end.

For Catherine it was a distinct inconvenience, but also an unsettling reminder that, pride or not, she was likely to have far fewer days ahead of her than behind. Laid up in Seattle for hip replacement recovery was  _not_  how she'd planned to spend her winter.

Swallowing in determination and leaning awkwardly against her walker, Catherine made the slow and painful journey through her son's empty house towards the kitchen, shuffling out of the prison of a guest bedroom she was currently forced to occupy and past a snoring Richard as he dosed lightly in a chair next to her bed. As soon as Catherine was released from the rehab center after her fall, he'd insisted on spending afternoons at Jackson and April's in order to take care of her and 'keep her company' while her children and grandchildren where out at school and work.

Outwardly, Catherine maintained that she didn't need minding -she could take care of herself just fine, thank you very much- quipping that Richard was really just bored in retirement and looking for ways to kill time. But in reality, she was glad of her (on again, off again, damn it, they really were too old for this nonsense) lover's company during the day. His hovering wasn't as annoying as Catherine might have imagined.

Surprisingly, having Richard around, along with the rest of her family, was a comfort. Even if they all grated on her nerves sometimes.

Her unfortunate trip and fall had occurred on a business visit to the Seattle area on behalf of the Harper Avery Foundation. Catherine had been on her way to meet a representative of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation to discuss the possibility of a jointly funded international health aid campaign. What happened was stupid really.

Catherine closed her eyes at the thought. Entirely pointless and utterly embarrassing.

She'd stepped out of a car at foundation head quarters, and the heel of her favorite pair of elegant pumps failed to gain traction on the winter wet Seattle curb, causing Catherine to lose her balance and tumble to the pavement with a resounding crack. In her younger years, she probably would have been fast enough to reach out and catch herself, but to her dismay, Catherine found she no longer had the reflexes to do so. At first, she attempted to downplay the severity of the situation, mindful of the fact that if she was seriously injured that she would end up in her son's hospital. That would certainly put a dent in her pride. But, from the moment she attempted to claw her way back to her feet with the help of her assistant, she knew that her hip was well and truly broken.

Damn.

And so it was that Catherine ended up in her beloved daughter in law's Emergency Room. Her pride about as fractured as her hip.

Catherine had held her head high and sat tall on her gurney trying desperately not to wince at the searing pain shooting down her leg as she was wheeled through the Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. However, the pain was intense enough that she found herself grinding her teeth, and fighting back a very uncharacteristic urge to cry. Her damn hip hurt and no matter how she tried to shift her body, the intensity did not ease.

But she'd held her tears firmly in check. Catherine Avery was not one to weep, even when she had good cause to. Fortunately her assistant Henry was doing a fine job of overreacting and tearing up for the both of them.

"Dr. Avery! What happened?"

The first shocked face to greet her belonged to Stephanie Edwards, once Jackson's girlfriend, now seemingly April's right hand in the Grey Sloan ER. The young doctor rushed up to Catherine's gurney, immediately beginning to fuss and take vitals from the paramedic, all the while barking orders at interns.

Catherine had given the woman a bit of a hard time years ago when her son had dated her as a resident. She'd of course, always had a rather neutral opinion of Edwards and sympathized with their similar circumstances as two of few women of color in the medical field. But, no matter how hard Jackson had worked to convince himself, his mother, the world and the poor girl herself, Catherine realized she knew, even then, that Stephanie Edwards would never be her daughter in law.

After all these years it was clear now that the role was always meant for April. For both Catherine and her son's sake.

So much so that it was easy to forget that Jackson even ever tried to make something supposedly serious work with the younger doctor. In most of their lives, (Catherine's included) the whys and hows of how her son and daughter in law got together had faded from prominence. Better glossed over than brought out into the light. They'd simply eloped at Lake Tahoe.

Foolish, rash, and gloriously romantic.

Time was trusted to bring happiness and children and to heal many wounds. And for the most part it worked. All the damage of that decision could be kept out of sight and out of mind.

Mostly.

But fact of the matter was, Stephanie Edwards had ended up just as humiliated as Matthew Taylor that day in the barn. Catherine knew, with a pain that she rarely examined,  _exactly_  what it was to be left behind. How humiliating it was. Julian leaving her had changed her life forever. In the end, probably for the best, but her pride had taken years to recover. Stephanie ever choosing April to be her mentor, even if it only reflected the girl's blind ambition, seemed nothing short of courageous.

Catherine also never really understood why April chose train her. Sure, Edwards was a worthy and capable protege, and had done well under April's teaching, but it just seemed like an odd decision. Perhaps it was a strange form of atonement, which Catherine didn't think was beyond the realm of somewhat unusual things April's religious beliefs might lead her to pursue.

If their roles were switched, Catherine didn't think she could have dealt with Stephanie Edwards on a daily basis. She certainly would not chose to. She knew Jackson kept things civil with her, and he didn't have to worry about seeing Matthew every day. Mr. Taylor's pride could not recover in Seattle and he'd apparently left the city not long after his failed wedding. As far as she knew the men had never made peace in the way that Stephanie and April had. Her daughter in law had trained this girl well and the two of them ran an excellent ER. Some on the board might not like to hear it, but the ER was one of the better run departments at GSM, as Catherine was always quick to point out. Most others should be taking notes.

The fact that her daughter in law could build this department with her one time rival was just one of many things Catherine still didn't quite understand about April.

Eventually Henry had managed to compose himself quickly enough to answer, "She slipped and fell on the sidewalk! I tried to catch her but it all happened so fast. They're pretty sure she broke something..."

Edwards snapped her fingers, "Gorman! Page Ortho and get us in the Lodox line! You should also inform Kepner and Avery that their mother is here with a possible hip fracture."

Holding up her hands and trying to keep her voice calm and steady Catherine explained, "Now it isn't as bad as all of that, I just slipped a little. My hip fractured. There's no reason to disturb-"

But there was nothing she could say; her hip was throbbing painfully and before she knew it, she'd been moved to the front of the scan line where she confronted by an uncharacteristically panicked April. Her son was in the middle of surgery apparently and couldn't get away, but her daughter in law insisted on reorganizing her schedule to be by Catherine's side.

Much to Catherine's chagrin.

It certainly was not the cool, calm, controlled trauma surgeon she'd come to know in emergency situations. She reacted worse than Henry. Catherine had realized then, with a flutter of affection, that in this moment April was not a surgeon at all. Simply a worried daughter.

Nervous fingers had danced restlessly along Catherine's forearms, fussing the silky fabric of her silk top, as April peered around the curtained off area. She was distraught.

"How is your pain? Do you need more medicine? I can get Edwards to bring you more...what's taking them so long? I  _know_  we can be faster."

Catherine took April's hand in hers to still the redhead's fussing, "Honey, it's fine. This took the edge off. I'm not a critical patient, so I know I won't be the first priority. I'm sure Dr. Torres will be in as soon as she's finished looking at my scans."

The words seemed to do little to stem her daughter in law's building anxiety. Instead she'd turned to face Catherine, eyeing her remaining high heeled shoe accusingly.

"This could have been worse," April rambled, voice wavering between anger and fear. She reached out and slid the shoe off of the uninjured leg. " _Much_ worse. You could have hit your head! This is too high for you. At your age you should really be more careful."

Normally the comment would rub, (well, to be honest it did) but the pity she'd felt for April as the woman's eyes filled with tears overruled Catherine's bruised ego.

She reached out and pulled April into a side ways embrace, "I'm alright, honey. It's a simple break. I'm going to be fine."

Even with nearly two years past, Karen and Joe's unexpected deaths were still very clearly too near for her daughter in law to view Catherine's little mishap rationally.

In fact, when she stopped to remember, she realized that Joe Kepner had fallen too. Out of a tractor and because of a heart attack; not due to the incompatible physics of designer heels and inclement weather. But he'd fallen none the less, so the parallel was there and Catherine could see how much the loss impacted April. She remembered the feeling of being newly orphaned herself long ago. And the odd realization that adults could indeed feel very much orphaned. When you'd had the benefit of your parents in your life for so long, it was hard to adjust to their absence. At least, that's how it had been for Catherine when her mother and father had passed 30 years prior.

Coupled with the estrangement from her sister that followed, Catherine felt like the loss of her parents also represented in a way the loss of her old life. Her Fox life wiped away, leaving only the Avery. Though she doubted that April would lose touch with her sisters the way she had with Caroline, Catherine knew that her daughter in law had always been a bit of the odd one out in the family. Without Karen and Joe to mediate, that would likely intensify.

In the aftermath of the deaths it was clear that April was affected. She worked more. She talked about and visited Ohio less. She was quieter than normal.

Catherine had been worried about her daughter in law's ability to cope with her parent's loss long before she broke her hip, but the hip did give her an opportunity to assist in a strange sort of way. April always seemed to have a need to take  _care_ of something when times were rough.

So, upon discharge from the hospital, she'd allowed April scold and fuss and bake pies or do whatever it was she needed to do to reassure herself that Catherine wasn't on death's door during her convalescence. With  _nearly_  minimal complaints. Because she knew that accepting the help graciously would allay some of whatever feelings April had about not being with her parents in Ohio when they passed.

She'd even overheard April tell Jackson as much, later that first night at their home, as she slipped out of a light sleep. One positive about being stuck with her family was that suddenly it was much easier to learn and keep track of her babies lives. Though Catherine wasn't always sure how to help with what she overheard.

Catherine recalled opening her eyes a fraction, sensing that she wasn't alone in the room. It was late, but sure enough, near the foot of the bed, her daughter in law was folding her own freshly washed (and hip easy) clothes. Jackson watched cautiously from the doorway in silence.

She'd very nearly nodded off back to sleep, but roused again at the sound of her son's voice.

"Richard or the kids can help with this tomorrow, April," he whispered. He was clearly very tired. "It's late and you're coming off of a double shift."

The folding didn't stop. As far as Catherine could tell, April didn't even turn around.

Her son sniffed in frustration, "Just come on. Come to bed. You're gonna wake her up."

"Jackson, can't you just help me finish?" April finally spoke, voice cutting loudly enough through the room that Catherine had to school her features to hide her wakefulness. April took a deep breath, lowering her tone, "Will you just help me? She should have fresh clothes tomorrow. I want to do this for your mom. You act like this is just some small minor problem-like she has the flu or something!"

Jackson didn't move closer from the door. He crossed his arms, "I know she doesn't have the flu. Right now, she's fine. Sleeping. I think we should go to bed too. You're exhausted and so am I. Mom and the clothes will be here in the morning."

"You don't know that."

"April, you've seen her scans. You know she is going to be just fine-"

Her daughter in law held back a choked sob, "That doesn't mean anything. My mom wasn't even sick."

Catherine could tell from the shadows in the room that her son had begun to carefully make his way to his wife's side.

"April," Jackson's voice took on a softer tone, but still adamant tone. "This is totally different. She...she had a clot. Passed in her sleep. No one could have predicted that."

The tears continued, "I was supposed to visit her. After Dad, I knew she was sad and...I was supposed to be there that day. I was supposed to be with her. I delayed my trip a week because of a surgery. A  _surgery_!"

"You are head of Trauma! You had to work," Jackson tried to soothe. "You couldn't have known."

"Work!" April shook her head and threw up her hands. "Work, work, work! Sometimes I don't-I don't know who I am anymore. In my family work was never the main thing. My parents...they always had time, if someone died or was sick we would put off everything on the farm as much as we could and have at least one of us stay for as long as it took to feel better. We never put work first."

A lump found it's way to the back of Catherine's throat. Work had never come first in the Fox family either. It was only after she became an Avery that work elevated to the level of importance it now held in her life.

"You couldn't have known. And you live so much farther away-"

"My sisters were there. With Dad. With Mom. But  _I_  wasn't. I wasn't!"

Catherine swallowed, knowing exactly how April felt. Caroline had been there for her own parents. She'd been in Boston.

Working.

Taking a deep breath and clearly working hard to keep her voice down and to pull herself back together, her daughter in law continued, "I know you were never that close to my parents, Jackson."

"April, it wasn't like that-"

"I know it was hard for you," she insisted. "With my family. I know. My parents took a while to warm up to you. What happened with my...wedding. The faith. Different backgrounds... I know you weren't that close to them. But I  _love_  your mother. I do. And she's still -both yours are- your mom is still here, can't we just help her? Can't you just let me help her?"

Catherine felt her son fully step in to the room and join his wife in her folding.

"Okay..." Jackson sighed. "Okay."

"Thank you."

"I loved your mom too, you know. And your dad." There was a pause and a sigh. "I did. I do. And I miss them."

April sniffled and then worked in silence for a beat.

"Getting my mom to let you help her more won't be easy though," Jackson warned, suppressing a small chuckle and making Catherine want to huff. "You think I'm stubborn when I don't feel good? You think Riley is bad? But you have  _no_  idea. My mother is on another level!"

Catherine almost right shot up out of her bed to tell them both that broken hip or not, she could do something as simple as fold clean clothes for herself and to get their over eager behinds out of her room and let her sleep.

But she stopped herself when she heard April laugh thickly.

"I am going to take care of her, Jackson.  _We_ are going to help her get well." She tilted her head in defiance. 'So she's just going to have to deal with it."

Catherine couldn't stop the smile that sprang to her lips.

Her daughter in law had more than once accused her of being mistrustful, even patronizing, never willing to allow April to get too close to certain parts of her past. Though the accusation infuriated her, Catherine couldn't deny there was some truth to it. She and April were close in many ways, but always to a point. A line she drew in the sand; not her daughter in law.

With certain aspects of her life (especially the ones that wounded her pride) Catherine was a little guarded. Julian and moments growing up in rural Texas before the civil rights movement were certainly off limits. So was most anything that had to do with the last time she saw her sister. Times that wounded her pride. She never wanted to appear weak. And of course there was the fact that she'd known April since she was a shy resident and there would always be a part of Catherine that wanted to protect and shield her daughter in law from the darker parts of her life.

Obviously that wasn't always the best course of action. She was beginning to understand that being vulnerable didn't reveal weakness.

And Catherine did feel she trusted April with what truly mattered. Try as she might to fully engage Jackson in the Harper Avery Foundation, he was fully devoted to plastics and if she was completely honest with herself, it was April she trusted to carry the mantle until Conner finished medical school. She trusted April as co-parent to her grandchildren, despite their differences in spiritual beliefs. And above all, Catherine trusted April with her son's heart.

Perhaps she could add her own health to that list.

This could be good for all of them. Catherine was determined to take care of her family and had done so for many years. Even more so after her parents passed and her sister fell out of her life. After Julian had left her. She'd poured herself into Jackson, Harper and Elizabeth Avery, eventually April and the kids, and even Richard. As she'd drifted off, Catherine decided that now, in her time of need, she could let them all take care of her.

Not for herself, but for their well being.

At least, as much as few as her damaged pride would allow. Even though in the past few days her daughter in law's hovering felt like it would make Catherine's head explode.

It probably should have bothered her a little that Jackson's reaction to her injury was considerably less overt. Catherine was  _his_  mother. But contrasted with Richard and April, her baby's concern was tempered with a confidence in her ability to recover that she found invigorating. If he was shaken, Jackson did not show it to Catherine. He was an Avery after all, and if nothing else Avery's always exuded confidence.

To the exclusion of everything else.

It was nice that someone (other than little Simon) still thought she was invincible. If Jackson could believe it, then maybe in time, Catherine could once more believe too.

And, most importantly, so could her pride.

Shuffling carefully to the refrigerator, Catherine narrowed her eyes at the black and white cat that stretched lazily on a marble counter-top. She was never a big fan of felines in general, and Zootsuit, the resident pet at her children's house, was no exception. Though she could appreciate some of the therapeutic value, Catherine really didn't approve of animals being indoors. And at least with a dog the creature could be trained to understand and follow commands.

Cats on the other hand? They understood every word you said. They just  _chose_  to ignore.

Her eyes narrowed, "I don't think  _you_  supposed to be up there."

The creature merely yawned and stood up to stretch before delicately hopping down from the counter, running to her side and rubbing himself along the legs of her walker.

"I don't think you supposed to be down here by me either," Catherine huffed. "You're a trip hazard."

Zootsuit blinked and moved closer, briefly rubbing his fur against her good leg before retreating to his foot bowl and eagerly chirping. Damned beggar.

Huffing irritably, she shook her head, "You just have to wait till they get home. I'm the only one eating right now for my pills. I can't bend over to pour your food."

Despite her feelings about cats, Catherine did have a grudging respect for him. And she was happy that he gave her precious grandchildren the opportunity to have the pet they desperately wanted. Over the years it had become clear that Conner Avery was somewhat allergic to most things with fur. Goats, cows, horses, pigs, and squirrels. Even dogs. All discovered the hard way. He'd always had to use his inhaler when he visited the Kepner farm.

But fortunately (or unfortunately depending on Catherine's mood), cats didn't seem to bother Conner.

As if on cue, she heard the keys in the front door and was soon surrounded by the boisterous noise of her chattering four grandchildren as they eagerly removed their damp raincoats in the foyer. Smiling fondly, Catherine grabbed a banana, poured herself a glass of water, and settled at the kitchen table with her ridiculously large pill organizer, waiting for the tornado to arrive. Growing up, the house only really seemed to be loud when she and Caroline fought, and she honestly wasn't home that often when Jackson was little. The two of them alone never got this loud and she really wasn't used to this noise.

Now that Conner was old enough to drive, April and Jackson often allowed him to pick up his younger siblings from school (sports practices and the like permitting), and in her recovery Catherine had seen first hand what those afternoons were like.

She still wasn't used to the way that a silent house could erupt with little more than the slamming of a car door.

Most of the time, Catherine was certain things would be  _far_  more orderly if her son and daughter in law would just swallow their pride and employ a nanny, instead of utilizing a mishmash of sitters, gullible friends, after school care, and a teenager to cover childcare needs. But, though she'd never publicly admit it, in the days she'd spent forced to recover here in her children and grandchildren's house, Catherine did find some charm in the chaos.

But only some.

A silver lining to her injury was the fact that Catherine was able spend more time with her growing grandchildren. She did her best to have a close bond with each of them, but she also knew that, as with her own son, sometimes work and the Foundation got in the way. Stepping back from all of that in her recovery had allowed her to see and know her grandbabies with new eyes.

And what little people they were.

First to arrive of the younger Averys was, in fact, the youngest of them. Catherine couldn't help but smile as Simon burst into the kitchen, arms spread wide and so quickly that the tie of his school uniform was flung over his right shoulder. Her smallest baby boy often said and did the strangest things, but he very much glided through the world with his own unique way of seeing things and Catherine defied anyone in the world not to be charmed by him.

Those who were not certainly had her to answer to.

"Hi Gramma!" the 7 year old greeted her brightly, pausing to wave before opening the large silver refrigerator. "I'm gonna have a string cheese!"

"Okay, baby," she chuckled, lifting her glass and taking her first round of pills as her grandson rooted around for his food. The amount of pills she had to take had actually only barely increased due to her injury. Everything else was just age.

Talk about depressing.

Moments later, Hannah and Riley appeared in the doorway, giggling and shoving each other playfully. Catherine swallowed hard. Sometimes they reminded her so much of how she'd been with her own sister at the same ages. The girls were in many ways opposites of Caroline and Catherine. Riley, the older of the two was studious and driven, as Catherine had been early on. Independent and thoughtful. Hannah was more outgoing and boisterous (sometimes abrasively so), not unlike Caroline had been as the bigger Fox sister. Quick to laugh and full of opinions. The similarities in their relationship to Caroline and Catherine's childhood where there and it made her melancholy.

As a child, laughter was abundant. As adults, somewhere along the line, Catherine and Caroline stopped laughing together.

The good humor between her granddaughters didn't last long. Almost as soon as they arrived, the older girl gave Catherine a measured glance before she turned serious and straightened her shoulders. She started to scowl at her younger sister.

"Stop it! Gramma needs calm!" Riley hissed, batting Hannah's hands away as the shorter girl's face fell.

Gulping down another set of pills, Catherine shook her head, "It's fine, honey. I feel pretty good today."

Rounding out the group,Conner made his way into the room, smiling at his grandmother in greeting. He casually passed his sisters and poured himself a glass of water from the sink. Catherine noted with amusement that 12 year old Riley was now inches away from being taller than her brother thanks in part to his birth defect; she suspected Conner was unhappy about this development. Zootsuit approached the teen eagerly, mewing and assertively leading the boy to his bowl. Conner dutifully reached down and fed the cat and it was all Catherine could do to keep from laughing.

Damned beggar had her grandson wrapped around his tail.

Conner didn't seem to mind.

He looked up, "Is Grandpa Richard here? He gonna stay for dinner?"

Catherine couldn't help but smile. Whatever ups and downs she and Richard had (and there were many), she was glad that he filled a role in both her son and grandchildren's lives that Julian wasn't around for. Her ex husband was missing out on them, but that was his own fault. Richard was amazing. The kids adored him, and though Jackson never mentioned it directly, Richard hinted that the two had a standing golf game together in which she imagined the older man shared the kind of wisdom a father might share with a son. Jackson certainly never got it from Julian or Harper.

And it wasn't like there was much else she could think they would talk about while golfing anyway. It wasn't exactly a strenuous or action packed pursuit. Catherine always made a point  _not_  to join, even when she was invited.

The girls joined their younger brother at the fridge and Catherine nodded, "I believe so. He's taking a nap in my room."

Gnawing at his string cheese like it was a carrot, Simon slammed the refrigerator door, "Yay! I'm gonna go wake him up!"

Hannah opened a long thin packet of horrible looking blue yogurt and (to Catherine's horror; it came in a tube, after all) began sucking the sweet snack right out of the plastic, before turning to follow her brother in earnest.

"Yeah, let's go!"

"Hey," Conner snapped, reaching out to halt the children. "Don't bother Grandpa."

"But I wanna play with him. And he doesn't need a nap, Conner!" Simon exclaimed logically, sliding into the chair next to Catherine with a huff. "Grandpa's not a baby! He's old. If he takes too many naps, he might wake up in heaven."

The mood of the whole room fell perceptibly. Riley sighed and added quietly, "Like Nana..."

The loss of the Kepners clearly wasn't any easier on the children than it was on their mother.

Downing another set of pills Catherine couldn't help but shudder. She didn't like to think about growing older. Lately though, it was hard to ignore. Indeed, it was far more noticeable now. Aside from her currently healing hip, and her rapidly growing grandbabies, Catherine also had another constant reminder of the inescapable passage of time.

People she knew kept dying.

"He's just tired, honey," she sighed, trying to comfort herself as much as the children.

Richard was actually a few years older than Karen Kepner had been when she died.

It had started off as a trickle. One by one. People on the outer edges of her social and professional circles had began to pass first, then colleagues. Medical conferences and annual meetings ended up also acting as an impromptu census of who was left alive year after year. And the situation only seemed to worsen. Coming closer and closer to home.

After mentors, it was hospital coworkers, acquaintances, friends from college.  _Peers_.

Joe and Karen Kepner died within 4 months of each other. Catherine couldn't honestly say she'd gotten very close to them. The divide seemed too far at times. They sometimes seemed to come from different worlds. The Kepners lived in Ohio, while Catherine was based in Boston. She was urban; her in laws rural. They were devout, where she was irreverent. Sometimes she found the couple shrill and no doubt they probably found Catherine to be snobby. She could buy hospitals and they bought cows.

All the same though, Catherine adored their daughter April and felt a certain sense of kinship with Joe and Karen because of their shared love for Conner, Riley, Hannah, and Simon. They all had fun together. Her and the kids and the Kepners. She'd attended both their funerals with heavy heart.

And Karen, dying so quickly after her husband Joe. Catherine heard of that happening with long time couples. Seen it happen with her own parents. One partner dies unexpectedly and the other, even if seemingly healthy, was often gone within the year. Romantics predictably interpreted this as death by broken heart. Some studies Catherine had read over the years indicated that there were some psychological factors that played into the phenomenon. But she'd long considered it to be indicative of preexisting conditions or mere coincidence.

While it was medically unlikely, in her currently weakened state Karen Kepner's unexpected passing unsettled Catherine. Age seemed to make her more open to concepts long dismissed. So she found herself reconsidering the question: did Karen die of broken heart? Was that even possible?

She wondered if her daughter in law or son would be like that. She couldn't imagine Jackson being that way. But perhaps that was more of a projection of her own mentality. Jackson and April did love each other deeply. Almost more deeply than Catherine thought possible. When they fought, which she'd observed on several occasions, often things got vicious (more often it seemed since Harper passed), yet somehow or another, at the end of the day her son and daughter in law made it back to each other.

Perhaps she was simply selfish. Catherine couldn't imagine dying from missing someone. Not even Richard, even though she loved him as much as she was annoyed by him. The only person she'd ever considered entertaining such an idea over had been Julian. And he left her behind. Which had broken her heart as much as any other loss.  _More_  than any other.

But damned if she was going to die or waste away over his ass. Her pride would never allow it.

Though Julian spurned Catherine, she'd enjoyed a lifetime of professional partnership with his father. And so in recent years, the biggest loss of them all was Harper Avery. He too was a person full of pride. Though he'd often vexed her, at the end of the day, Catherine knew that she would not be the woman, nor the  _surgeon_ she was today, if not for her relationship with her one time father in law. She realized only after Harper was gone just how much she'd miss him. His death made her feel the most aware of the passage of time.

Oh  _how_  she missed him.

Observing her grandmother's unusually down cast expression, Hannah tilted her head seriously, reminding Catherine of April in tone and posture, "How are you Gramma?"

"I still have one more pill," she explained in amusement, holding up the giant red pill that would complete her afternoon dose. It was a whopper, but it was the pain pill she'd desperately need following the physical therapy she'd done earlier in the day.

"Dat's a real big one Gramma!" Simon nodded in sympathy, eyeing the capsule with suspicion and curling his lip. "I don't like the swallowing medicine..."

All four grandchildren took seats at the kitchen table, watching her expectantly. A captive audience. Much as she might agree with her youngest grandchild, Catherine choose to square her shoulders. She was an Avery and a physician. She would  _not_  be intimidated by a pill, no matter how large or cumbersome.

"You wanna know something, baby?" she replied with confidence. "I don't either. But it will help my hip, so I have to suck it up!"

"Grampi Joe always used to say a spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down!" Hannah said helpfully, leaning across the table.

Smirking and rolling her eyes, Riley countered, "Wasn't that Mary Poppins?"

"Grampi said it," the younger girl protested adamantly. "When I got hives and had to take that beny-stuff. He let me have a spoon of sugar and-"

"Not to speak ill of the dead," Catherine continued, placing the pill on her tongue and taking a large swallow of water. The children watched wide eyes are the pill disappeared with one firm and determined gulp. She smirked in triumph. "Neither your grandfather, nor Miss Poppins were physicians."

Shoulders sagging slightly, Hannah wrinkled her nose and grumbled, "Mama says it too...and she lets me have a sugar sometimes when I gotta take medicine."

Catherine found herself pursing lips,"Well, with my hip, it is important to take the medicines exactly as prescribed." She held up her banana, "With the proper food prescribed. It will heal faster, because at my age things are a little different. Sugar won't help anything."

Her younger granddaughter sighed, crossing her arms with a dramatic flourish and visibly wilting. Catherine felt a pang of guilt at shooting the child's suggestion down so definitively. Even though sugar wasn't an effective approach to taking medicine, it was clear Hannah only wanted to help. And the child did also often seem to suffer from the same kind of 'eternally little sister' effect that Catherine had so hated when she was growing up. Always dismissed. Always coddled. Rarely taken seriously.

Then again, a spoon full of sugar really wasn't a sound medical treatment. Hannah was an Avery and Averys  _had_  to learn medicine. They were born to it.

Harper would expect nothing less. Not that he ever paid much attention to his younger granddaughter when he was alive. Because even at the tender age of two he'd written her off as the lesser of all options when it came to the future of their precious foundation. Son long since gone, grandson and granddaughter already well incorporated into the Harper Avery Foundation leadership, the old man chose to look even farther ahead. Sick as he'd been in those last few months, with Catherine the old man had been all business. Even when it came to his great grandchildren.

Except for fleeting moments with Riley, Harper had never really taken a moment to enjoy them. Planning ahead was one thing, Catherine indeed very deeply supported that, but doing so at the exclusion of all else seemed utterly pointless to her now that she was older. He'd had only so much time with his son, grandson, and three of his great grandchildren, and yet he barely knew any of them.

And in turn, they did not know the old man either.

Catherine sincerely hoped that in her own life, she'd learned better how to be truly present in the lives of those she cared about, even if she had the foundation to look after, and lived far away. She did her best to make sure that all her babies knew she loved them.

Because Harper's time had come to an end, and she felt certain that there were almost none, save Catherine herself, who really missed him.

Old fool.

"You know, once you get better, you really shouldn't wear high heels, Gramma," Riley advised, carefully opening her own disgusting tube of yogurt. The suggestion was not unfamiliar to Catherine. "Winston Churchill's mother-"

"Oh, here we go," Conner mumbled from across the table, eyes already beginning to glaze over as his younger sister continued to speak.

The girl shrugged off her brother's interruption easily, "Winston Churchill's mother lived until she was nearly seventy, which was quite old for the time, but she fell down the stairs while wearing too high of heels and her leg had to be amputated because it got gang-green and then she died!"

Riley had been Harper's pick to be groomed as successor in his Foundation, even as a child of three. No matter how swiftly or firmly Catherine admonished him. She disliked the years of her life when men like Harper had judged and labeled her potential. People who discounted her ability to succeed because of her gender. Her skin color. And a host of other totally irrelevant things. She'd be damned if their own great-grandfather was going to write off her precious grandbabies before they even had the chance to grow and bloom. Allowed to become the people they were capable of being and using their talents to advance the Harper Avery Foundation. They would  _have_  help, but certainly each grandchild could discover their own way to contribute as they grew.

It was the 21st century after all.

Perhaps in the future the entire weight of the organization didn't have to rest upon one person in the family anyway. Wasn't the prospect of that legacy what drove Julian away? And did the Harper Avery Foundation not transition into it's golden era when both Harper  _and_ Catherine shared the helm? Wasn't it thriving with Catherine, Jackson, and April each playing a role today?

Harper's vision of the future for the Avery family wasn't the only one. At least not anymore. Now, she had her own. No matter how his pride had blinded him, Harper Avery was not right about everything.

But in the years since her father in law's death, Catherine could concede that some of Harper's impressions of the little ones were proving true. Out of the four of them Catherine saw clearly that Riley was the most intelligent, just as the old man had stated. She had her own mind and would not be easily led by anyone. Even her own family. Her oldest granddaughter would do well at board meetings when the time came, she was already certain. Conner was eager to please and would work very hard, even if he wasn't the best. He cared about being liked, just as Harper had suggested. He'd tried very hard at board meetings and won over most of the members, but he still was overtly nervous and relied on his parents to guide him through the proceeds. Jackson at the same stage had been much more independent of Catherine.

But then, perhaps indulging this line of thinking was a symptom of her own wounded pride. As a teenager, Jackson never seemed to  _need_  Catherine the way her grandson relied on his parents. And perhaps, in her son's youth, she'd never cultivated that kind of relationship. Though now the situation was greatly improved, even all these years later, Jackson didn't tend to turn toward her when in need. He rarely turned to anyone, but when he did, it was from his wife that Jackson drew support. Which made her that much more grateful that April Kepner had turned out to be the one for her baby boy.

When her son was young, mistakes were made. And not just by Julian. She thought understood Jackson. She even perhaps accepted the distance he kept between them. But it still hurt.

Much as growing older vexed her, Catherine had to admit that it certainly did provide her with a far sharper perspective. With age came introspection and with introspection came insight. Some people learned from their past mistakes while others did not. Harper had been a fool in his old age; she a fool in her youth.

Simon's little face lit up, full of curiosity, "You mean they cutted her leg off?"

"Yes," Riley explained with matter of fact precision. "To get try to prevent the spread of infection."

"Well," Catherine chuckled, amused by the little boy's excitement over the gory outcome. Perhaps Orthopedics as a specialty someday. "I don't have an infection and no one is cutting off my leg."

"Point is, the whole thing could have been avoided, for you and Lady Churchill," his eldest sister huffed. "If not for wearing high heels...personally, I don't understand why anyone wears them in the first place? They're not even comfortable."

"To be pretty," Hannah supplied with a giggle.

Riley only rolled her eyes dismissively. "Being pretty isn't everything. Especially once you're old! I still don't understand."

Catherine's lips curled into a smile. Normally the comment would rub. To be honest, it still did.

"Pride, honey," she replied in amusement, before her expression became pensive. "The answer is pride."

What it always seemed to come back to. But for the first time in her life, Catherine had to wonder whether the pride was still the faithful companion she'd always known. Sometimes pride made you do foolish things.

* * *

If only Harper could see her now. In a church  _pew_  of all places.

Catherine cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably. She did not spend a lot of time in churches. Point in fact, she only been in any sort of religious temple in recent years to attend funerals, and that didn't even really count as voluntary attendance, as she only chose to do so out of respect for those who had passed.

Nothing more.

Her antipathy to religion ran deep. Catherine had even declined to participate in the baptism of any of her youngest three grandchildren.  _On principle_. She'd only been present in the hospital for Conner's because they'd all been so certain at the time that he would soon pass, and it was the only thing that seemed to comfort April in her distress.

 _That_  was an extenuating circumstance.

Even in her extended convalescence in Seattle, Catherine chose not to join her family in their weekly Sunday ritual of church and waffles. As she spent most of her time being fretted over by hovering well wishers, she found that she enjoyed the day of peace. She was used to living alone after all. And as much as Catherine's broken hip made her realize that she needed to make and effort to leave Boston to visit her family and Richard more, it was also a reminder of the fact that she did indeed enjoy independence. And on Sunday mornings, she had just that.

So Catherine didn't go to church. She saw no point. She'd grown up in a good southern baptist family in small town Texas, spending every Sunday in a pew but the reality of her life there did nothing to affirm any sort of belief in a higher power. How could there be, when people could hate each other so? Where people made her father sit on the back of the bus as he commuted to work? When there were parts of town her family couldn't go without fear of being spat on or worse? Where many of those same frightened people could turn around and all but spit on and judge Catherine for who she fell in love with? Where others chastised her for leaving and training to be something better instead of knowing her place?

All while the whole town, black folks and while, proclaimed the place to be 'Christian' and 'Godly', as though the whole structure of the place was preordained and somehow divine. And used the church to rubber stamp the hypocrisy. Ridiculous. She appreciated the role that many churches played in the cause back then. The civil rights movement would not have been what it was without the galvanization of many southern churches. But the organizers and the rousing idealistic sermons, not unlike Catherine herself, never quite stuck to her home town. Caroline on the other hand...

No, Catherine was not and never would become religious. She did not go to church. Nor would she go back to her home town. Her pride would not allow her to bend that far.

Or so Catherine had believed. But there was a lot she was willing to sacrifice for her grandchildren.

Beside her, Jackson seemed to notice her discomfort, whispering gently, "You alright? You can stand up if you need to. This is almost over."

Catherine sighed. He'd grown used to the place. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised. Jackson had gone to this church with his wife and family for many years, despite not believing in any of it.

Keeping her eyes on the altar in front of them, Catherine shook her head. "I'm fine, honey."

She knew she could make it. She wanted her grandbabies to see that she'd lasted through their entire nativity play. Much as their level of involvement with their mother's religion and church gave Catherine pause, she couldn't let them down, and most especially when they were excited. In the past, the Kepners had flown in from Ohio each year without fail to watch Conner, Riley, and then eventually Hannah, and Simon perform. Catherine had never attended.

But now that they were without other grandparents, her position changed somewhat. They needed her. Or perhaps her old age altered even her mind's most hard line stances.

Plus, she was already in town.

So Catherine  _was_  in a church, somewhat shockingly enjoying a children's nativity play. Despite the context and subject matter, she was pleasantly surprised to find that the performance was not as overtly preaching as she might have expected. Once you got over the fact that it was about the supposed birth of the son of God, (something Catherine was not exactly willing to completely let go), the Seattle Fairview Church's nativity functioned more as a morality play than anything else. Perhaps Jackson had not exaggerated all these years when he claimed that his wife's local church was more progressive than Catherine imagined.

And all the little ones really did look adorable. Especially Catherine's own grandbabies.

To the far side of the altar, Simon was in the very front row of the choir, grinning from ear to ear and often breaking the metaphoric fourth wall by seeking out Catherine's gaze and waving happily between songs. Of course, every time he did, the pastor turned director would rebuke the little boy with a gentle head shake, which made the child slouch in momentary shame. But wasn't enough to stop Simon from waving again the next time he thought the conductor wasn't looking.

Hannah was in the middle of the stage outside a wooden stable, one of many youngsters dressed up in long robes and shepherd's hats, clutching a crook and leaning against a cardboard sheep. She didn't have any lines, and she wasn't particularly good at being on view, seeming to freeze when her eyes scanned the packed audience. Catherine pursed her lips in amusement. Loud and outgoing in person, it seemed Hannah was less at ease when it came to acting on a stage. So much like her father. And a lot like Julian.

Conner was just visible in the wings, dressed in all in black as he and the other older kids operated the sound and lighting. Earlier in the week, Catherine overheard the teen had brag (in his own modest way) to his little girlfriend, Ellis Grey's granddaughter of all people, about designing and building wheels for all of the old set pieces to make transport and transitions easier. He'd tried to play down his excitement over doing the nativity play  _again_  at age 17, but seemed to relish the role of stage manager. Now, as a pivotal moment in the nativity story came to a head, Catherine could just make out her oldest grandson adjusting the side lighting so that the stained glassed windows behind the main alter seemed to glow.

The effect was pleasant. It made the church feel almost welcoming.

Almost.

The last time she'd been in a church was also the last time Catherine had seen her sister. They fought after their mother's funeral about her supposed abandonment of her community, heritage, family, and ailing parents. At least that was how her sister saw things. It wasn't true.  _She_  was the one who'd been abandoned, not Caroline or her parents. Right? The sister's yelling had made toddler Jackson cry. There was no way she'd allow that, so Catherine had grabbed his hand and spun on her heel. She could still her Caroline's last biting words, hurled at her back and echoing through the large sacred space as she fled the church and her sister's anger.

"Your rich white boy finally left you, huh? Momma and Daddy are gone. What will you do? You thought you were  _so_  much better than the rest of us..."

Her sister had never understood about Julian in the first place. From the very beginning Caroline insisted on telling Catherine her marriage was a bad idea. And maybe it was, but not for the reasons her sister presumed. Still, it hurt doubly to know that in the end the elder Fox sister was proven right. Catherine sucked in a sharp and audible breath, closing her eyes to banish the memory.

Now, Jackson, April, and Richard were  _all_  watching her, their gazes positively dripping with careful concern. It made her pride bristle in indignation. Whatever issues she had with religion and now matter that her hip ached, did they really think she couldn't make it through a  _children's_  play? And since when did taking a deep breath warrant so much extra attention anyway?

April's light touch on Catherine's wrist was too much. She snatched her hand away and hissed, "I  _said_  I was fine."

But then again, perhaps her resurgence of memories was making her sensitive. She squared her shoulders, ignoring the bewildered expressions of the family around her, and focused all her attention on the play in front of her. At the altar, standing with more elegant poise than a 12 year old had any business displaying, Riley continued to narrate the final moments of the play. She looked out at the audience with grace, mesmerizing even the most reluctant of viewers.

"Recognizing Jesus as King of Kings, the first Wise Man brought him gold. Frankincense was the gift from the second, because he knew Jesus was the Son of God. And the third Wise Man brought myrrh, because he believed that Jesus was the Savior of the world."

Three boys, draped in gaudy robes and paper crowns approached a cardboard manger, offering wrapped gifts to a plastic baby doll. The last one tripped over his long costume, bumping the box and nearly sending 'Jesus' tumbling to the floor, save for the quick reflexes of the young girl playing Mary. As the corners of her mouth twitched, something seemed to twinkle in her older granddaughter's eye that Catherine couldn't quite identify. But the gleam was gone as quickly as it appeared, and the girl continued to speak confidently, without missing a beat.

"Each of them gave Jesus a precious gift, and that's why we give gifts at Christmas – particularly to poor and needy people. They went home even wiser men, realizing that the most precious things are worth far more than money – and are not always found in the richest places. They realized that they should offer their wealth to Jesus, the Son of God – born into poverty – who is a friend of poor and needy people."

Then the whole group, actors, stagehands, and choir alike burst into an abrupt chorus of  _"Joy to the World"_ , and then that was that.

Catherine blinked. She had attended her first nativity. And she'd  _survived_. With her pride largely in tact. April was the first person to her feet out of the entire congregation, followed closely by Jackson, as they and soon the rest of the audience began to applaud loudly for the children. Although she couldn't stand for them, and she wasn't really on board with the subject matter, Catherine couldn't help but clap enthusiastically herself.

She was  _so_  proud of her grandbabies.

And they seemed proud of themselves. Well she amended, watching Hannah shuffle along listlessly in her shepherd's costume, Conner, Riley and Simon were proud at least.

Afterwards, on the walk through the parking lot beside the church Conner practically made a B-line to the car nearly dragging Richard behind him, rambling non stop about all the lighting ideas that Pastor Drew had generously allowed him to try. The rest of the family took a slower pace to the car, clustering around Catherine and her walker.

"I'm so glad you could come, Mommy!" Simon beamed, wrapping his arms around April's waist tightly. "I was afraid you'd be at work."

Catherine didn't miss the flash of guilt that crossed her daughter in law's face. Since her parents death and her promotion to Head of trauma, she had no doubt that her son's wife was very likely working longer hours than the children were used to. Jackson's expression became subdued as well. Such was the life of an Avery. Partly personal and partly professional. The line in a surgeon's life was always so thin.

The look of pain was quickly replaced by one of pride and April squeezed Simon's tiny shoulders, "I wouldn't miss this!"

Simon beamed and turned his attention to Catherine, "And Gramma came too! You  _never_  come to church wif us. I sang extra loud."

"Oh, I heard you loud and clear," Catherine chuckled, shuffling along behind her walker, Riley close by her side. She'd know Simon's voice anywhere. Even if he was slightly out of tune. He was only a child after all.

"You were very good. I'm so proud. Of all of you," Jackson continued with a grin. He glanced to his wife and squeezed Hannah's shoulders. "You each did very well."

"Yes," Catherine agreed, watching her younger granddaughter pointedly. "You should be very proud of yourself, my dear."

"My part wasn't very big," Hannah's mumbled reply was barely audible as she leaned her head against her father's arm.

Though her words were quiet, they were evidently enough for her younger brother to hear. He turned back to Catherine and whispered loudly.

"First, Hannah wanted to be Mary, or maybe a wise man or something with lines, but she ended up being a shepherd a cuz she kept freezing at her try out-"

Catherine was fairly certain the little boy was just trying to be helpful by bringing her up to speed on a situation that was clearly set into motion before her hip injury, but it was clear that he hit a nerve with Hannah. Where the girl had been quiet only seconds before, her brother's words set her into a frustrated tirade.

"Stop!" Hannah hissed, spinning on her heel to face her little brother. "Mama, he said he wasn't going to tell about it anymore! I don't like it when he does! He promised!"

"Simon, if you promise not to tell a story about someone because it makes them sad," April explained tiredly. "That means you can't keep telling it over and over again."

"Sorry, but I was just telling Gramma," Simon scowled. "She didn't know..."

"Well, now everyone knows, let's just leave it at that," Jackson snapped, lifting his younger daughter to his back and letting her wrap her arms tightly around his shoulders. She turned her head away from the rest of the family, almost hiding in the many folds of her costume.

Catherine sighed. It seemed she was not the  _only_  Avery dealing with the double edged nature of pride.

The girl sighed, "Got scared. I wanted people to see  _me_  do something special. Not just a lame shepherd."

"Every part matters, you know," April added, reaching out to pull the fabric of Hannah's shepherd's hat away from her face, and giving her daughter's cheek a gentle caress. "And the shepherds were a really important part of Jesus's birth."

" _If_  it even happened," Riley mumbled under her breath, loud enough for only her grandmother to hear.

Catherine couldn't help but chuckle. Where she very deliberately avoided deeply discussing religion with her daughter in law (as over the years that had only caused tension), she did occasionally broach the topic with her older grandchildren. The family knew well what their grandmother believed.

Conner was more reserved but confided in Catherine that he really didn't believe everything his pastor told them in Sunday school. Riley was more openly philosophical about it all and much more researched and concerned by religion than her brother. As worried as she was about her grandchildren's religious upbringing and heavy involvement in their mother's religion,as they grew, Riley and Conner seemed to be developing their own beliefs. So far Jackson and April held true to what they'd always told her, all the children were, if nothing else, open minded and questioning.

For which Catherine was very pleased.

However, the giggle she shared with her granddaughter likely would have caused some sort of friction and fortunately went unnoticed because Jackson and April were still focused on cheering up Hannah's glum mood. The girl was still clearly a little crest fallen. It hurt her heart to see her younger granddaughter so discouraged, but Catherine always found it a bit of a marvel to observe her children co-parenting together . It was more than she'd ever done with Julian and so she was filled at pride every time she saw them. To see her  _son_  being a father, better to his own children than Julian had been to him.

"Come on, slow pokes" Richard teased, as they neared the car. "We're hungry!"

April shook her head, quickening her pace toward the driver's side of the vehicle. When they reached the SUV, Conner waited impatiently, bouncing from foot to foot and holding his hands out.

"Keys, keys, keys!"

She reached into her pocket and unlocked the doors, letting Richard scoop Simon away from her side and load him into the back seat. April smirked and tangled the keys in front of her teenage son.

"You know, someday the novelty really is gonna wear off," she said affectionately, dropping the jingling chain into Conner's eager hands. "You'll be sitting gridlocked traffic. Rolling along at 4 miles per hour in a 5 zone, wondering how many hours of your life you've wasted on the road-"

"Yeah," the teen, grinned sliding into the driver's seat. "But until then, I'm more than happy to be your chauffeur."

April and Richard burst out laughing as they slid into the car and Conner turned the key's in the ignition, sending the SUV's engine roaring to life. Catherine could hear Simon's giggle too, though she was fairly certain the little boy didn't quite grasp the meaning of the word. The other side of the car was much less jovial. Hannah remained down cast as her father helped her into the vehicle.

Jackson continued to encourage her, "It's not easy being in front of a whole lot of people watching you. Daddy gets stage fright sometimes too."

Catherine had seen it often enough. Her son didn't do well in front of camera audiences. Julian had trouble with certain types of public speaking as well, the few times he ever did it for the Foundation. Though Catherine had always suspected his issues were less a result of the presence of a crowd, and more because Harper Avery was a presence within that crowd. Still, her ex-husband did have a few tips that he used.

"Your grandfather used to be the same way. He always said it helps to look over the people's heads," Catherine advised her younger granddaughter, gesturing vaguely above Riley's head to illustrate her point. "Don't look anyone directly in the eye."

"Really? That works?" the little girl asked eagerly. "Grandpa Richard does that?"

She didn't know why she told the truth. It would've been just as easy to let her grandchild think Richard was the one with trouble public speaking. It wouldn't have even been the first time she'd glossed over a Julian trait or memory and passed it off as Richard with her grandchildren. They all know of Julian of course. They knew that Richard was their Grandpa, but not their father's parent. Julian was just not a regular topic of discussion.

In her whole life, Catherine tried to keep him out of discussion. So she surprised herself tonight in her answer.

"No, honey," she explained gently, leaning on Riley as support while Jackson folded up her walker. "Your Dad's father did that actually. Said it works like a charm."

Hannah nodded brightly. Jackson's expression turned dark.

"Maybe he's not someone we want to learn from. Huh, Gramma?" he sneered, out of Hannah's earshot, as he placed the walker into the cargo space behind the backseat. The rear door of the SUV slammed loudly, making everyone outside the car jump.

Though Julian was a topic rarely examined, Catherine and Riley were both taken by surprise at how swiftly Jackson's mood changed. Riley's eyes grew wide in concern and she observed her father closely. After all, it was a fairly benign topic to pull him into. She'd only wanted to help Hannah. That should not send her fully grown son into a sulk. Patting her older granddaughter on the back she put on a comforting smile and allowed the girl to hop into the car next to her sister, shifting the wait of her bad hip to the car instead of the girl.

When Jackson came back around the car to help her into her seat, Catherine could see that he was still irritated. His jaw was set and the lines in his forehead pulled his whole face into a frown. She realized in that moment, just how much she'd underestimated the depths of her son's lingering emotions related to his father. Jackson was still angry. Very angry. Even after all this time. Even after he'd achieved so much more both in his work and his family than Julian Avery ever had. It was probably something she  _should_  have expected in him.

Catherine's was not the only heart that Julian Avery broke in leaving.

As a mother, she felt guilty for not doing more to help her son find some peace within himself about the whole situation. But for too many years, her tongue was held captive. So many important things left unsaid over the course of her life. To her sister. To Julian. Even to Jackson.

All because of pride.

As her son moved to help her into the car, Catherine spoke quietly. She had no wish for her baby to remain angry. She'd spent too many years consumed by anger herself, and it really hadn't gotten her anywhere.

"He wasn't horrible, you know," Catherine offered. "Your father."

Jackson huffed and rolled his eyes.

She held up a finger, "He did a terrible thing and I'd whoop his ass if he came into the room right now for what he did to us, but...I loved him once. He gave me you. He's not all bad. It doesn't hurt him to keep holding on to all of those feelings. It only hurts you. I know we never really discussed this much when you were younger, but...I'm happy to talk with you about him anytime, baby."

Her son didn't reply and attempted to hustle her into the car. Catherine braced herself against the door, unwilling to let the subject go without some sort of response. Jackson scowled at her, to no avail.

She'd kept herself away from the subject of Julian as much as possible for many years because she was furious at him. And at herself for falling in love with someone who could hurt her so badly. She'd been embarrassed to be left behind.

But Jackson? Her baby boy had nothing to be ashamed of. Catherine did not wish for his pride to remain so impacted by something that was not his fault. She never wanted him to feel as though it was.

"Talk to someone," she whispered. "Try not to let things simmer or stay buried for too long."

"You sound like April," Jackson huffed. "She wishes I would talk more."

"You married a very smart woman," Catherine quipped.

"But...I don't always know how, Mom," he explained sadly. "I don't always want to."

And in that moment, she realized later, Catherine chose to say  _precisely_  the wrong thing.

"Neither did your father."

She hadn't meant anything by it. After all, as this very conversation demonstrated, Catherine herself wasn't very good at having tough conversations either. Harper had been lousy at it too. It wasn't easy for Averys. She knew talking was hard for both herself and Jackson, but she also wondered whether that was part of what went wrong with her and Julian in the first place. And with her and Caroline. And likely with Julian and Harper. Sub-par communication and long held emotion was a family pathology on both sides. Catherine could see that now. It was a pattern she hated to see her son repeat.

Whatever the intention however, the statement did not have the desired effect.

"I am  _nothing_  like him!" Jackson snarled as he overcame her strength and gently helped her into her seat. She wondered whether the help would have been quite so careful, if not for her broken hip.

The door slammed loudly. She suspected that the answer was no.

Catherine sighed as she buckled herself in, watching as Jackson rounded the car and climbed into his own seat. Nothing said, 'this conversation is over' quite like a slammed car door. The awkward silence that met her in the car made it clear that the adults at least had heard more of that conversation than she'd intended. Richard reached out and squeezed her hand.

Fortunately the younger children seemed to be more oblivious, because Simon and Hannah thankfully began to speak almost as soon as Conner put the SUV into gear and began to drive. It certainly wasn't the first time they'd seen their father and grandmother in a tiff. Richard half heartedly joined in with the little children in their chatter. Conner and April made polite but rather stilted conversation in the front seat, trying to draw Jackson out as best they could, but it seemed his preferred state was silence. Riley watched her father with a frown.

The jovial post nativity mood had evaporated, and Catherine realized, that was entirely her fault. It seemed their special dinner would be marked by tension, if the car ride was any indication. She doubted Joe or Karen Kepner had the same effect on the event during their lifetimes. Only she had the dubious honor or ruining the post play evening for family on her very first attendance.

So often in her life, she was a woman of firsts.

Briefly, the thought of apologizing to them all in the car occurred to Catherine. Even though she didn't believe she was wrong in trying to advise her son, and in her opinion his reaction to any mention of his father was rather over the top. Perhaps an apology for bringing the topic up in this context would buoy his mood. After all, Catherine could have postponed some of the conversation until later. Acknowledging that would probably improve the situation. 

But again, she  _knew_ she wasn't wrong. And something kept her from speaking. From offering even the tiniest of peace offerings to her son, although he was very much still angry. And she knew exactly  _why_  she couldn't bring herself to say sorry. 

Once more, the answer was pride. Catherine was certain, for better or for worse that most things in the Avery family came down to pride.

For better and for worse, Catherine Avery was a proud woman.


	9. Chapter 9

 

_The Age of (Not) Believing_

From very early on in life, Riley Avery understood that she was intelligent.

In fact, she felt fairly confident that at any given moment,  _she_  was the smartest person in the room. Even when her parents were there.

That's not to say that Riley thought her mom and dad were dumb; they weren't. Jackson Avery and April Kepner were some of the smartest people she knew. Along with her Gramma Catherine, of course. And she had spent her life around  _their_  friends and peers. Doctors, surgeons, researchers. She knew what smart looked like. Riley had grown up surrounded by some of the most intelligent people in the world.

On paper, Riley was just a private school sophomore. Once a child, and now, as her mother always chastised her whenever she fought with her little brother or sister, a 'young woman'. (Somewhere along the line, 'young women' apparently forfeited the option to smack irritating younger siblings in the back of the head, a right Riley wasn't quite ready to give up.)

By any objective measure, she was far from comparable with the likes of surgeons.

And yet, deep down she always viewed that as more of a time lag than anything else. Given enough time and the right information, Riley felt that she too could be a an excellent surgeon. Better, indeed than all her parent's friends and her mom and dad themselves.  _Maybe_ even Gramma. If she wanted to.

She just wasn't sure she did.

Though she could easily be accused of arrogance, Riley was positive that she could do whatever she set her formidable mind to. She didn't think she really was arrogant. Just realistic. She was quick to catch on to things, and did far better than most of her peers in nearly every subject. Without even trying that hard. Riley was rather unimpressed with high school so far, but loved to do her own research on topics that interested her. Philosophy, history, literature, physics, activism. She spent hours getting lost in learning.

From books, the internet, or even just talking to people.

Disagreements aside, Riley could talk to her mother for  _hours_. Once on a family ski trip to Switzerland, her whole family had been disappointed to find that the lift to the slope broken down. While her father, sister, and brothers ran around making snowmen, Riley and April passed the time discussing the role of free and propaganda press in the Harry Potter series and whether or not it was an accurate allegory of how the media can influence the public during times of conflict. So much so that both mother and daughter failed to notice when the broken lift was fixed.

They never made it up the slope with the rest of the family, but still had an excellent day.

Other girls her age would talk about hobbies, boys, popular music. Stuff like that. Her own siblings had lives filled with activities that passed the time. Conner played sports even into college; rowing, tennis, track. Hannah was a girl scout, seemingly always in pursuit of a new badge. Simon was involved in just about every thing a boy of 10 could possibly be involved in at Seattle Children's Theater.

Everyone had something they liked to do. Mom baked and made ambrosia salad when she had the time. Dad followed basketball and went golfing with Grandpa Richard on many weekends.

Riley loved to think.

And she did have her own carefully chosen set of extra curriculars, debate being her primary focus at the moment, along with computer club and varsity quiz. But she felt it wasn't quite the same as her siblings. She chose what she liked and felt would help her get into college and that was that. A means to an end. She didn't continue soccer after 8th grade even though she knew it would make her dad happy if she still played. She left church youth group a long time ago, even though she knew it made her mom kind of sad.

Just because Conner was spineless enough to stay in youth group long after he told Riley that he'd stopped believing in most of what they were taught in the meetings, did not mean that she was going to stay. Continuing to join her mother on Sundays for regular service should have been more than enough. The existence of God was something Riley had contemplated for much of her life.

How could she not, given her parent's drastically different belief systems?

She'd thought about it, and she talked with her mother at length. Her father wasn't as interested in talking about it, but occasionally allowed his daughter to wax on the subject when he was feeling particularly relaxed. When she was younger she'd believed more in the bible and what her mom and the pastor said. Too a point, anyway.

But she'd always questioned.

Now, Riley wasn't sure the conclusion she came to completely excluded the existence of a higher power, but she figured that if something greater existed it was all probably beyond the realm of what the species could biologically understand. Most of what any human got out of any sort of religion was filtered through other humans. Particularly in religions that involved congregations and hierarchical leadership structures, like Christianity. Humans could be unreliable. And like Gramma said,  _everyone_  had an agenda. What Pastor Drew told them every week wasn't necessarily what a hypothetical higher being would want the congregation to know, rather it was indicative of what Pastor Drew wanted them all to believe.

And Riley preferred to choose for herself what she believed.

Youth group was fun when she was younger, and she'd learned a bit about cooperation and public speaking, but she'd hit the ceiling. Riley had gleaned all she could. It was never her favorite. Continuing wasn't exactly useful to Riley in the long run as far as she could see. Especially given her recently developed stance on organized religion. So after she turned thirteen, she put her foot down and quit youth group. Not surprisingly, Hannah followed suit. Her sister never liked doing the performances at Christmas and Easter anyway.

Their mother was deeply disappointed.

The argument that ensued had been epic, loud, and tearful but in the end, Riley had known exactly what buttons to push to get what she wanted. If she and Hannah really didn't want to go to youth group anymore, Dad wasn't going to force them. And he wouldn't let Mom force them either. That was a rule. Her parents, despite their differences in beliefs, were always united about that. No kid could be forced to believe either parent's perspective if they didn't want to. Riley and Hannah still had to go to church of course, just like their father, and still had to at least respect what their mother believed and that she did believe, but they were free of the weekly bible group meetings.

Simon still loved being in youth group and going to church however, so Riley felt that there was no reason for Mama to be  _that_  sad.

At least Riley picked her own passions. Hannah always liked to follow fads and fashions. Her sister and her strange little friends seemed to perpetually adopt the next 'big thing'. Off to the Westlake Shops for new shoes or shirts. And dear God, the hair stuff.  _Always_  new hair stuff. But, unlike Hannah, if given the choice between hanging out with her friends at the mall, representing her school at a varsity quiz competition, and literally just sitting in her room with a good book and a lot of questions to think about, 9 times out of 10 Riley knew she wanted to pick thinking.

Being social and getting involved did not come naturally to Riley.

Sure, she had friends- lots of them- and seemed to have an easier time of things on that front than Conner and Hannah certainly. People were drawn to her, even if she wasn't drawn to them. But Riley didn't always know how to handle the friends she had. Often Riley felt like everything with her friends at school was surface deep. Sometimes she worried that she wasn't a good friend.

Not everyone was willing to sit and talk with her as much or as intensely as April did. Gramma could tolerate it for a while, but eventually would tire of the deep conversations Riley craved. Her Dad's tolerance was much lower. Conner was okay in a pinch, but often accused her of talking too fast. Hannah tried, but Riley found that their interests had very little overlap and she wasn't the best at understanding the things that enthralled her older sister. And Simon was still too young for big talks, preferring puns to philosophy. Most of her friends diverted conversation into what Riley considered to be more trivial topics.

People were much harder to understand than books.

She remembered that first day at Seattle Prep, when the captain of the junior varsity football team approached her in the lunchroom, with absolutely no provocation on her part. He'd watched her approvingly, taking in her blue eyes, faint freckles and luxurious curls with an appreciative smirk. Riley knew when people were looking at her. Riley knew when  _males_  were looking at her particularly. It usually made her uncomfortable. A downside of taking after her father's appearance. People rarely look beyond a pretty face. When you are attractive, people don't seem to care much about the other deeper things that are more essential to your true identity. How a person looked shouldn't matter nearly as much as who they were inside.

Riley hated shallow people. She  _hated_  when people talked about her looks. Grown ups almost always told her how much she looked like her Dad. That's what they all said to her. "You look just like your father! So beautiful. How lucky!" Especially at Harper Avery Foundation events. Not that it was so bad looking like him; even for his age, her Dad looked amazing. Riley looked more like Jackson more than her sister or brothers. It just so happened that people at these galas often assumed that because she resembled her father visually, she must also take after him in personality.

Not true in Riley's estimation.

"Avery..." the football captain had said, repeating her name curiously, letting the syllables linger on his tongue for a second longer than they should have. He smirked and licked his lips. "Your name's Avery right? You're new here. Hi, I'm Kent."

Riley's eyes darted from right to left, sighing when she noticed that her two so-called friends seemed to have vanished into the crowd behind her, their whispers still audible.

"Oh my  _gosh_! Kent Wu! He's so cute!"

"His father owns half of downtown Seattle!"

Whoop-di-freakin-do. Or perhaps, in this particular case, she should say, whoop-di-freakin- _Wu._

But reputations mattered at Seattle Prep, even though they shouldn't have. Riley assumed it was one of the few places in the world where having a venerable family tree filled with successful surgeons made you average compared to everyone else's successful lawyer-software developer-chemical engineer-senator-ceo parents. And it all seemed to matter. Even the lowest of all the social circles seemed aware.

One of the many things Riley disliked about her school.

"My name is Riley," she corrected, standing up straight and reaching out to shake the hand he offered warily. "Riley Avery."

"Oh, okay, Avery's the last name then..." Kent's brow furrowed, as though he was thinking very hard. "Avery...that's familiar."

"My brother graduated last year," Riley had explained, pursing her lips. "He was captain of the golf team. He's at Rice now."

His third choice, but Riley had always considered Yale and Stanford to be far out of reach for Conner, no matter how much her parents and grandparents propped him up. All her big brother had to do was breathe and Mom and Dad thought he'd invented air. He continued to live and breathe and it was like he walked on water. Kind of strange.

Even though he'd been born sickly all those years ago, her brother had been relatively healthy for years. Time did little to dampen their parents enthusiasm. They were still so happy Conner was alive.

And so it seemed all his successes and milestones were doubly celebrated. Sports games, grades, college admission. Even when the objective results might be considered mediocre. Which could be rather annoying. Riley never got any special hoopla for getting a B in Math.

Then again, she'd never gotten a grade as low as a  _B_  in Math.

Conner seemed to like Rice well enough, (though he didn't talk about his life there in great detail) and Gramma was originally from Texas after all. He wasn't a very talkative person, most especially not about himself. When they facetimed, he always asked Riley about the rest of the family. Especially his cat. Conner  _really_  missed Zooty. It was a little weird.

Dad missed her brother dearly. They all did.

In the lunch room, Kent's gaze had remained clouded in confusion for a moment before he snapped his fingers, and started making vague gestures in front of the width of his chest. Riley's eyes narrowed. She took issue while his insinuation.

"Oh! Yeah,  _that_  guy. I did golf for a bit instead of football when I was recovering from a knee thing. Cooper, right?"

"Conner," Riley corrected again, trying to hide the edge in her voice. "He was the captain while you were on the team."

One would think Kent might have noticed that.

"Right," he nodded, smirking again as he moved to join his friends in the lunch line. "Well, nice to meet you, gorgeous. I hope to see more of you around sometime."

Riley cursed the blush that crept across her skin from cheeks down her neck. One aspect of her physique she certainly didn't inherit from Jackson Avery. No one could tell when Hannah blushed.

Kent noticed. Then the fool had actually  _winked._  Gag.

Riley had sighed and gathered her lunch, brushing past the still grinning athlete and ignoring the calls of her still giggling friends. She knew they'd want to sit down with her and interrogate her about the encounter, trivial though it was. They'd then gossip endlessly about it, spinning themselves into a wild frenzy of speculation on Kent and Riley's 'future' as prom court or something silly like that. It wouldn't be the first time they got carried away. While Kayla and Dana were her two closest friends from middle school, Riley was hardly in the mood for their antics. So she'd eaten her first lunch as a high school student in the library by herself.

Reading.

But regardless of her first day frustrations, over a year later, Kayla and Dana were still her best friends. Kent Wu always said 'hi' to her in the hallway. And Riley always blushed.

Mama had always said that good friends were hard to find. Somewhat to her dismay, Riley found her mother's words exceptionally relevant in high school.

And even when she did find them, Riley often had to remind herself to engage with them. She was as content alone as she was in a group. Often more so. Gramma Catherine said it was like that for all introverts.

"Not shy, just disinterested in unworthy company, right honey?" Her Gramma understood Riley.

Gramma Catherine also said that Julian Avery, the biological grandfather she never met, was an introvert too. Which was a bit unsettling. When she remembered that, Riley found herself a lot more motivated to resist some of her natural tendencies and to hang out with people, just for the sake of it.

 _Especially_  when Dad was paying attention.

He was hard enough for her to talk to as it was. If there was one thing about her father that Riley understood, it was that he did not want to be reminded of Julian Avery. She did not want to be like him, as much as she found herself full of questions about her unknown grandparent. Riley was both irrationally furious at Julian, and insatiably curious about him. Not that anyone had been able to provide her with many answers to satisfy her interest in her missing grandfather.

Riley was deeply grateful they had Grandpa Richard instead. He could make everyone smile. Even her grandmother and her father. Memories of Julian never did.

Mama said it was a sad situation that even she'd never been able to learn everything about. Anytime Riley asked to know more, her mother would sigh and wrap an arm around her shoulders and state that it was her father and grandmother's story to tell. Discretion was a trait Riley normally admired, but somehow in her mother she found it to be beyond annoying. Mama knew  _something_ , but she was leaving the story to Dad and Gramma to share.

Problem was, neither one of them told Riley very much of it.

Her Gramma was disappointed in Julian. That much was clear. Her father never said much about Julian but to Riley it was clear that he  _hated_  him, and Dad wasn't exactly the member of the family who was prone to strong emotions and outbursts. Even when her mom and dad fought, it was their mother who was prone to hysterics; Dad usually just got quiet or went for a walk. He'd talk over April here and there.  _Maybe_  slam the door.

Once, he'd kicked over a trashcan in the kitchen.

That had happened years ago, not long after her Papapa died, and Riley could still remember the occasion well. In fact it was an event she would  _never_  forget.

Not one to enjoy feeling left out, Riley had crept downstairs in the shadows at the sound of raised voices, unnoticed by her parents. She vividly recalled being scared and watching with wide eyes from beneath the dining table as the large silver trashcan hit the ground.

Her mother had paced the length of the kitchen island, throwing her hands up in frustration and all but hissing, "You know what, Jackson? Fine. Shut down. Be mad. I don't know what to do anymore..."

Riley's father was deeper in the kitchen, and thus obscured from view by the marble of the island's counter top, and by her mother's walking back and forth. Riley had crawled forward on hands and knees under the table, trying as best she could to get a glimpse of her dad..

"Why do you always have to  _do_  anything? This isn't-I'm not a fucking charity case!" Jackson's voice was sharp with anger. "You push and push and push! Why can't you just leave things be?"

The tone of her father's voice had scared Riley. He didn't sound like the dad she knew. He sounded cruel and disgusted. He sounded scared. She'd wanted in that moment to run out to her parents, even if she got in trouble, because at least then they would stop yelling at each other. She wanted to feel her mom's hugs and for her dad to kiss her on the top of her head before they took her back up to bed and tucked her in.

But fear got the better of her and Riley had stayed under the dining table drawing her knees to her chest.

" _You_ were the one who said you felt bad when your grandfather asked for your father on his deathbed.  _You_  said you felt guilty you didn't find out where your dad was when you had the chance! In the will, there were certain non-money items Harper left to your father. Pictures of you and your grandmother; things with sentimental value that he wanted his son to saw what I found in his office. You were there when the lawyers explained-"

"They explained that the burden is to make a good faith effort to find him. That  _they_ would try to send him what Grandpa left him if it was possible, and only if he is found. But, no. You had to go snooping around online looking for your stupid happy ending."

"I googled something, Jackson! Tom said if we had any leads to let him and the firm know. I was checking the trust funds and I remembered seeing a transaction in London. That's  _it._ I wanted to double check and see if anything came up before I called the firm."

"You did it behind my back!"

The fight had showed no signs of slowing down as her parents all but howled at each other. Riley pulled her arms tight around her legs and rocked to comfort herself. She had no idea how her brothers and sister could sleep through it. Then again, perhaps they were also awake and just too afraid to sneak down stairs. Neither possibility had offered Riley much solace.

"I would have told you anyway if you hadn't walked up behind me and read over my shoulder! Talk about 'snooping'. I am just trying to honor Harper's last wishes." Mama's face and neck sometimes turned red when she was mad. Even from under the table Riley could see the deep flush of the back of her mother's neck.

"It was a dead end anyway. You are over-reacting!"

"The hell I am!"

"Yes, you are! You are so sensitive about this and I don't fully understand why. I'm not trying to make you reunite with your father, Jackson. I am not trying to make you do anything you don't want to do. I was just trying to help with the will. To maybe right some things your grandfather thought he did wrong. I think he regretted things and I am just trying to help. That is it. I am not out to get you or hurt you. You're lashing out at me like I think you want to lash out at your father. I'm not him. I'm your wife, you can trust me!  _Please_  trust me."

Then from deep in the kitchen, where her father was just out of view came a loud bang. Followed by a more than a few seconds of complete silence.

The sound -the kitchen trashcan thrown violently to the floor- caught Riley off guard. The ensuing silence even more so. She covered her mouth to hide her gasp and blinked back tears. She couldn't see what was going on, but no noise that loud could be accidental. Now both April and Jackson were out of Riley's line of sight and she had no idea why. It was one of the few times in her life she could ever truly categorize as truly frightening. She'd been completely frozen in fear. The seconds seemed to last hours, until Riley heard her father's voice, far quieter than before.

"You shouldn't have looked. He doesn't deserve to be found. I don't want anyone to find him," he sounded muffled, like he was crying. "I do not want you to find him."

April's voice was softer now too, "I know."

"The bastard! He didn't want the Avery name. He shouldn't get anything from us."

"Well, he probably won't. I don't think he using the name Julian Avery any more," Mama conceded with a sigh, once again partially visible as she leaned against the kitchen island. "And I don't think he wants to be found."

Dad had cursed again and the sound of a metallic kick rang through the echoing kitchen.

Still startled, Riley had scooted out from beneath the table, fleeing quickly back to her room in a panic, caring very little about being caught. Neither parent came in that night to check on her or scold her, and the next day they didn't say a word to her, so Riley had always assumed her evening's activities had gone unnoticed. Normally, when a child in the Avery family witnessed something private or frightening, Mama would take them aside and talk about it to make sure they understood what was going on.

But, for once, Riley had been more than happy  _not_  to talk about this. Some things were better left un-examined. Because Julian's name appeared to change her father into a completely different person. Even years later, though she remembered the incident often, Riley wasn't eager to ponder the stranger her Daddy became in the kitchen that night.

The children all knew things were bad whenever their Dad raised his voice, despite the fact that the house was full of loud people. Her father was rarely the loud one. Simon was loud, no question. Hannah? Yes. Her mother? Certainly. Even Conner, if the Celtics were losing. Then again, Simon, Hannah, Mom, and Conner didn't hate anyone like Dad hated his father.

They never threw things.

Julian Avery's name was almost the only thing that could provoke her Dad into  _really_  blowing up. Decades after the fact, he still had the power to hurt Jackson. And it made Riley angry. Her biological grandfather had ruined his own family and career, as far as she could see. And her Dad was still suffering from it. But that was all she knew. She didn't know how it happened, where Julian went, or (most perplexing to Riley)  _why_  he left. How on earth could he do that?

How on earth could he do that to  _her_ Dad?

She might be introverted, but she knew she was a lot smarter than Julian. She was better than him. Smart people don't hurt the ones they love.

Riley thought she could match wits with her parents, grandparents, or any of their friends. She had before, from time to time, and held her own. Riley even believed she'd even bested them on occasion. Conner said she was full of herself. Her mother occasionally texted her well meaning biblical quotes about the virtue of humility. Her father and grandmother only praised her.

Common introversion aside, she was nothing like Julian.

Riley yawned and stretched, leaning back in her chair attempting to get a glimpse of the Boston skyline. It had already been a long day and things were no where near being finished The meeting droned on. One old person after another. Everyone one the board was positively elderly. Aside from Conner and Riley,  _her parents_  were the youngest people in the room.

And they were  _not_  young. There really ought to be some sort of retirement age for board members. Even for Gramma.

As it was for the whole meeting, her mind drifted further and Riley soon found herself flicking through news applications on her phone, lulled by the voices of the room. Some were familiar. Mom, Dad, Gramma (Conner never spoke up to the whole group). Other voices were not known to her. They were all pretty easy to tune out.

A text message from Conner flashed across her phone screen.

_You're distracted. Pay attention._

Riley's gaze snapped up to meet her brother's accusatory stare. She rolled her eyes and her brother's frown deepened.

Another text.

_You do not get to zone out and leave me holding the bag._

"Pay attention," he mouthed across the table, glaring intensely when Riley's eyes met his again.

She could only huff. She loved Conner, but sometimes he was freaking annoying. Glancing around the rest of the table she noted that her Dad was looking at  _his_  phone under the table too. Probably checking sports scores. At the head of the boardroom, Gramma was already flipping ahead in the agenda, clearly only half listening to Mr. Holloway as he continued speaking. Even Mom's eyes, though still nominally focused on the old man's over-long commentary, were glazed over while her polite smile was clearly plastered on by sheer force of will.

Riley wasn't distracted. She was bored. Though she wasn't paying super close attention, it was clear that Mr. Holloway made his point  _ages_  ago. A point she'd previously concluded to be stupid and elitist anyway.

She sighed.

Not only was the meeting boring, it was proving to be a bit of a disappointment. Riley was surprised to find didn't like board meetings. She'd researched the agenda in excitement in the days before the family flew to Boston. She'd wanted to enjoy the experience. But it seemed like the meetings were just for show and everything the Foundation planned to do in the coming year was already decided. At least the big stuff. Though perhaps that was just the way her parents and Gramma had set things up for the parts Riley and Conner could see. Since this was all training in a sense. She wanted to enjoy it, even if there wasn't really much of a choice in 'participating'.

All her research was for naught.

Riley supposed the really frustrating thing was she didn't have a vote yet at all. She would probably be more interested if she felt like any of the assembled members actually cared about what she thought about any of the Foundations activities. She wanted to take action on what she believed. All the board cared about was that she was an Avery, and that was really the only reason she was allowed in the room.

A happy accident of birth that Riley was an Avery at all.

It wasn't really a high qualification threshold when all was said and done, so she was determined to prove to all of them someday that her family legacy was the least of her useful traits. She wanted to be able to help change the world because she was smart and she knew she could, not because of inheritance.

Eventually Riley would be able to have an official say. And when she did, things would be different. Then guys like Mr. Holloway would see. Then guys like Mr. Holloway would shut up sooner.

For these meetings were destined to be as much a part of Riley's life as they were to her parents. It was a burden of being an Avery after all. But she'd grown up hearing her grandmother's stories and hearing on the news just how many important things the Harper Avery Foundation did for the field of medicine. She hoped that for her own life, the Foundation wouldn't feel like the ball and chain it seemed to be for her dad. Because he could never leave for a Boston trip with out a sarcastic remark. Riley had always been proud to be a part of a family that really made a difference in medical history. As Gramma was always quick to point out, not every family had such an impressive legacy. And her mother always reminded them how much their family helped people.

Boring or not, she couldn't say she wished she was back at home with Grandpa Richard and the little kids either. This meeting was just the beginning of her future as an Avery. A legacy Riley would not easily give up. It was the kind of legacy that also spelled opportunity. It could give Riley the opportunity to someday make a difference in the world.

And Riley desperately wanted to make a difference.

Ignoring her brother's glare, she decided that she should at least try to do stay alert, boredom or not.  _Vote_ or not. The meetings were far less action packed or interesting than Riley had expected, but she'd be damned if  _Conner_  was going to chastise her for not paying attention.

"As you all understand, a research award with a specific focus on patent extension is key to maintaining some directional control over research and development as well as Harper Avery Foundation prominence," Holloway restated once more. "I think it's in everyone's best interests to maintain intellectual and business control over-"

For the first time since her mumbled greeting after her grandmother's introduction at the beginning of the meeting, Riley cleared her throat. Everyone at the table turned to focus on her, if only for some relief from Holloway's indulgent speech. The non family board member's watched her with curiosity and surprise, while her brother shook his head in irritation. Her grandmother seemed amused and her mother beamed.

Only her father's face remained unreadable.

Not matter. Riley had read the occasional article on the topic of the pharmaceutical industry's patent hoarding problem, and she knew from experience volunteering at church that there were plenty of people -elderly people not unlike the board members assembled in terms of age and temperament- for whom the price of medication was a constant struggle. Not everyone was so fortunate as to have no worry over money. In fact most of the world had no where near the luxury Riley had grown up with. They were all very lucky. An easy enough fact to lose sight of for all those in the room, but one that Riley took pains to remember. Indeed all her cousin's lives were far less wealthy.

Like Mama always said, "There but for the Grace of God go we." Even if Riley didn't believe in April's God.

She also knew enough about Mr. Holloway's background that she felt that what she had to say mattered. Maybe she couldn't vote yet, but in an instant Riley decided that her voice deserved to be heard. The man was also a board member of a pharmacy corporation, and that made Riley skeptical.  _Of course_  he would push for strict patent control. Everyone had an agenda. He and the shareholders would make more money if no one else produced their medications.

Clearing her throat again, Riley squared her shoulders, feeling suddenly emboldened.

"You say it's important to maintain extended patents on for medications used in treatments that Harper Avery researchers discover. Aren't you really just preventing medications from crossing over into the generic sector? I mean, if the patent on a specific prescription expired, and a generic version existed it's not like the treatment any of the researchers came up with would disappear, right? Not like the Foundations contribution to the development would be forgotten, right?"

She glanced around the room, willing confirmation from the other board members. Most looked incredulous. A few angry. Conner looked nervous. Gramma leaned back and crossed her arms. Mama was nodding and her smile was no longer fake. And a few of the older ladies from the left side of the table murmured affirmatively. Mr. Gatz, by far the oldest man in the room, tapped his cane to the floor twice and bobbed his head.

Dad's expression remained unclear.

"Right," Riley continued, answering her own question and feeling suddenly a little less confident. "So, whatever it was, the treatment connected to the Foundation would still be utilized across the country. Really, then- when a drug patent expired- it would just be the patient and doctor having a choice of pills prescribed. Brand name or generic. Seems like a waste of money for us to fund something that in the end is really just paying to look for ways  _not_  to give people that choice. And that's not what I thought the Harper Avery Foundation is all about."

Someone at the far end of the table muttered, "Well, Holloway's problem is they always go for the cheaper option, which isn't the brand name."

"And I suppose  _you_  know everything that Harper wanted for his Foundation after all?" Holloway huffed leaning across the table. "You're aren't the first heir to come in and think you can change Harper's vision. Julian certainly didn't last, and I think you'll find Harper's vision might well last longer than your-"

"Careful Holloway," Jackson murmured sharply.

The old man demurred somewhat and continued, "Point in fact, this board has already discussed your concerns, a perspective eloquently pushed by your mother last meeting. However, we have to protect our interests, the brand, the integrity of the Foundation's identity. Patents have always been a part of the equation and a majority voted to continue. It's what Harper wanted."

"I mean, my great grandfather is  _dead_ ," Riley countered, unable to stop the words that seemed to pour from her mind to her mouth with nary a pause. "He's  _been_  dead. The Avery's of this foundation, are my family. And  _me._ It's not like we have to stay the same forever, right? Medicine doesn't. Harper Avery is dead. I barely remember him. And yeah, he was cool and all, but he didn't know everything. Papapa became a surgeon before the internet was invented for goodness sake. Nothing stays the same. That would be ridiculous. Just because Papapa did things one way doesn't mean it's the only way. It doesn't make it right. This organization has to figure out a way to move on from him."

She could see the situation clearly. Riley knew that paying to extend the length of a patent in the name of profit could not be right, even if the Foundation had done so in the past.

It was like Mama always told them when they were growing up and learning to behave. Riley always hated the feeling that she and Conner had different expectations than Simon and Hannah. Her 7 year old self had demanded to know why could Simon chew with his mouth open in restaurants? Or why Hannah always received 3 less minutes in time out than Riley? Never mind that her brother and sister had only been toddlers at the time.

Still learning. Unlike Riley and her then 12 year old big brother.

Her mother's explanation stuck with Riley and seemed just as relevant to the adults in the board room as it had been to her younger self. She set her jaw and concluded, "When you know better, you  _do_ better. I think you all can do better."

The rest of the room erupted in outraged chatter and Riley felt the heat rise to her face and neck in mortification. She'd let herself get a bit too carried away. She didn't think this is what her parents had in mind when it came to 'training' for board membership.

Oh  _shit._

Holloway looked livid and many of the other old guard members seemed to be very riled up. Fortunately Gramma did not seem offended, and kept trying to calm things down as the volume of the board members escalated. Conner ducked his head uncomfortably. Riley felt her mother's hand slide into hers beneath the table offering a gentle squeeze and a close lipped smile. Her father remained stone faced. Riley bit her lip. She hadn't meant to be insensitive.

Perhaps speaking up wasn't the best idea after all.

Gramma cleared her throat and clapped her hands, finally drawing the rest of the board members attention, "I think everyone needs a break. Let's recess until 2:00pm."

Riley stayed in her seat and kept her head down as the board members filed out of the room. Everyone except actual the Avery's. Conner shifted in his seat, giving his sister a quick but very pained smile when she dared raise her gaze. The silence in the room was palpable and Riley didn't dare look at any one else. She could feel her parents and Gramma's eyes on her.

Unable to stand the quiet any longer Riley burst out, "I did  _not_  mean for that to happen, I swear. I was just being honest. No one said I couldn't talk-"

Catherine raised her hand in the air almost delicately, but the move was more than enough to shut Riley up. Her father cleared his throat, and Riley reluctantly turned to face him with a wince. He sighed and tapped his fingers together on the edge of the table, scowling as his tilted his head to one side as though he was fishing around for just the right thing to say.

"We can't fix everything in medicine. We can do a lot. This foundation can do a lot. But we are not magic."

Riley sat up a little straighter, surprised to find that Jackson was not chastising her for being disrespectful or for derailing the meeting. He speaking to her about the content of her position, at least. But his voice was tired and flat.

"Also, I think-" Conner tried to interject softly but Catherine continued her son's point, her grandson's interjection entirely unnoticed. He blinked twice and looked down.

"It certainly is a contentious topic,"Gramma explained, patting the back of Riley's hand. "One we've had robust debate over in the past few years, and no doubt will continue to now that you're here too, honey. And I do understand where you are coming from, baby. But, sweetie, your Dad is right too. Harper's vision was to revolutionize actual surgical procedures and not the mechanism of the field that delivers them. Any sort of change takes time, we can't wave a wand and fix an entire industry."

Gramma was laying on think with the endearments, which Riley knew was the old woman's way of softening things whenever she told the family something they didn't like to hear. The fact that the Foundation would continue to prevent the development of cheaper generic drugs was not something Riley wanted to hear. It wasn't right.

When she finally broke her silence, April was more sympathetic. She reached out and wrapped a reassuring arm around Riley's back, "It's a good thought though. These things do take time."

Riley could tell her mother agreed with her and  _not_  Dad and Gramma. Holloway had said as much too. That was enough to relax some of her nerves. She sighed in relief. At least she wasn't getting in trouble. But she still felt sad that more of the board didn't listen to her mom. Riley might not be old enough for full voting membership yet, but Mama had been on the board for many years.

"I know it can be hard," Dad added, leaning in close and whispering in her ear so only she could hear. Conner's gaze narrowed, highlighting the dark circles beneath his eyes. "And you're so smart. And I know it isn't easy to wait for everyone else in here to catch up, huh? But it will be okay. Try not let yourself become too frustrated?"

"Okay..."

"Promise?" Jackson asked playfully, kissing the side of his daughter's head.

All remaining tension seemed to vanish from Riley's body at her father's words. It was clear that he wasn't mad at her. Certainly not disappointed. She nodded and let Jackson pull her close for a quick hug.

Riley  _never_ wanted to let her Dad down.

Always quick to take charge, Gramma tapped her hands on the edge of the table and winked across the table to Conner, "I think we could all with a bit of lunch. Our Mr. Conner here looks like he's about to pass out. Let's get the young man a sandwich."

"Great idea," April agreed rising from her seat. Conner was already on his feet and nearly to the door, and Jackson took extra long steps to join his wife and son, leaving Riley and her grandmother trailing behind.

"Sorry I messed up the meeting, Gramma," Riley sighed, feeling her grandmother's hand on the small of her back as they too headed toward the hall. "I made the board members mad."

Catherine chuckled, "You didn't mess up anything. Now you can get a feel for how all the board really works. This is just a passing disagreement. You don't even know what an angry board looks like." Gramma winked and added, "Yet..."

It was hard for Riley to imagine Holloway and the group even more hostile than she'd already seen. She gulped. She still wanted to make a difference in the world. But the Foundation didn't seem like the easiest way to do that.

The fear must have been evident on her face because Gramma reached around to cup her chin lovingly. "Fortunately honey, next item on the agenda is a  _much_  easier topic."

"Oh?" she automatically mumbled in disinterest. Not like it mattered much as Riley was pretty sure the board would be spending the meeting eyeing her closely. Just waiting for another outburst.

"I'm giving an update on the Christie's Charity auction," Catherine explained. "We're raising money to fully fund a new residency program and New York University hospital using some of the Foundation's archives, and some items from Harper's estate that he wanted to sell if it didn't stay with family. I thought, why not raise some funds for one of his favorite programs?"

"Cool," Riley replied absently, watching her mother and brother walking arm in arm in the hallway ahead of them, while Dad walked along side with his hands in his pockets.

"Actually, the auction is doing tremendously well," Gramma continued. "Harper memorabilia in particular. His scrub cap just closed. And one of his scalpel sets. That same buyer in London. Seems to buy all of Harper's personal affects."

April leaned close to Conner, saying something Riley couldn't make out. He shrugged his shoulders and seemed to smile. Jackson seemed to chuckled too, and cast a quick glance back to Riley. She felt her shoulders drop. She might not be in trouble, and they might not be disappointed in her but Riley was positive that Conner's first board meeting went much smoother than hers. Clearly still the golden child. For once, Riley mused, her brother probably deserved the credit and praise he got from Mom and Dad.

He never made scenes.

She frowned and hung her head, inexplicably embarrassed. Which didn't make sense. She  _knew_ she was right- Mama agreed with her and Dad and Gramma didn't out and out disagree- but she couldn't fight the tendrils of shame the seemed to be wrapping themselves about the memory of her outburst.

"Don't worry," Gramma whispered, lacing her fingers with Riley's. "My first board meeting was  _far_  more controversial than yours, baby. Don't you worry on this at all."

Riley sighed and squeezed her grandmother's had. Not worrying would be easier said than done. Her mind was hard turn off. She was knew she was a very intelligent person. Smarter than most people she knew.

She understood a lot, but Riley did not understand everything. A painful lesson she was only just beginning to learn. Being intelligent only took you so far. And it did not mean you always knew best. Unfortunately, that was a concept that did not come to her easily.

* * *

It wasn't until a few months after that board meeting that something clicked in Riley's brain. She wasn't sure how it happened. Or even why. Sometimes her brain just worked like that. One day in fourth period AP biology, the fall after her first official board meeting, it came to her all at once.

The Foundation auction. London. A buyer. A frequent buyer that always purchased Harper Avery's things. A trust fund transaction in London her mother noticed years ago.  _"I don't think he's using the name Julian Avery any more."_

A trashcan hitting the kitchen floor.

Riley's head snapped up from her her desk and tablet and her jaw hung open. It was a total long shot, but  _what if_? What if it was all connected? What if that buyer in London was the long absent Julian Avery?

It was a concept that already rested on a lot of ifs.

 _If_  her mother's first instinct was right about a trust fund transaction she'd seen in London years ago?  _If_ that was even information you could infer from a trust fund account? _If_ Julian Avery was the person who made that transaction?  _If_ he was using a different name?  _If_ he was still in London?  _If_ he would be so brazen as to purchase his father's items at the auction in the first place?

But Riley couldn't stop her mind from reeling with the possibilities.

_What if?_

"You with us, Avery?" Kent asked, leaning back towards her desk. The one downside of being in AP biology as a junior was the fact that the one and only bane of her high school existence, Kent Wu, was in the same class.

She startled at his words and returned her attention to the present, glancing around the classroom sheepishly, knowing her neck and cheeks were starting to flush.

"Yeah," Riley answered hastily, shrugging her shoulders and glancing down at the tablet in front of her.

Her teacher was way ahead in the lesson. Kent looked like he wanted to say something else, but she didn't give him the chance. Ignoring her burning cheeks and the persistent gaze of her least favorite classmate, Riley willed herself to concentrate on her science class. It wasn't easy, but she managed to make it through the rest of the school day, reasonably engaged.

But that didn't mean she let the theory go. Quite the opposite, in fact.

That very afternoon, instead of heading directly to Grandpa Richard's after school as normal, she found herself taking the number 68 bus to Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. Her mom and dad's hospital was certainly a familiar and welcoming place. Riley and her siblings spent a ton of her childhood there, either in daycare while her parents worked or chilling in their offices or in the offices any of their numerous friends.

Alex and Arizona were the best. They worked in pediatrics so always seemed to be toys and children. Sometimes patients but also other surgeon's children, Nico, Megan Karev, or Mei would be there playing with Riley and her siblings. Sometimes even older ones like Zola, Sofia or Bailey too. A visit to peds was always fun. Riley vividly remembered squealing uncontrollably in an office chair as Alex rolled her and his daughter down the long hospital hallways at break neck speeds.

Riley realized that hospitals were places where people felt ill at ease. Places some people feared. Places where people died and felt pain. But it was also a place where life happened. Where people were born and healed. Where Dad had used his breaks to make her surgical glove balloon turkeys with goofy faces. Where Gramma would occasionally sneak her into the surgical gallery to watch real procedures. Where Mama taught her the ABC's of first aid right along side her real ABC's. The sights, sounds, and smells were familiar and comforting. It was a place of happy memories for Riley.

A sort of home.

She wondered if things like Harper's scrub cap or his scalpels could feel like home to Julian Avery. Even after everything that happened between them.  _If_  her theory was right and he was the buyer in London, why would he buy so much of her Papapa's things? Out of spite? To honestly raise money the Foundation? Or to have a piece of his past? That seemed almost too sentimental.

After all, this was the man who  _left_  Riley's Dad.

Making her way through the hustle and bustle of the ER, Riley scanned for familiar nurses and friends of her parents. In a nearby bed, Dr. Grey had her stethoscope to a patient's chest. She waved in response to Meredith's nodded greeting, and headed toward the surgical board, scanning for her mother's name. April had seen the financial transaction in London and she wanted to find out as much as she could about how the trust fund worked.

"She's in surgery."

Riley just about jumped out of her skin when she heard her Dad's voice, He was standing right behind her, leaning in close and pointing to the board.

"What?"

"Mom is in surgery. See?" he continued, tapping the spot by April's name. "OR 3. Fork lift accident, I think. It's pretty bad. Probably quite a long haul. Already been 4 hours."

"Oh..." Riley replied giving her dad sheepish grin. "How did you know I wanted to see Mom?"

Jackson beamed and pursed his lips, "Let's just say it's father's intuition."

"Well..." she said truthfully. "I'm happy to see you too."

And she was. They might not have been as close and they didn't always see eye to eye, but Riley still liked spending time with her father when she could.

"Good," Dad nodded. "Did you text Grandpa to let him know you were coming here? You know how he worries."

"Uh, yeah..." Riley fibbed.

She often chaffed at her family's constant insistence on knowing her exact location at all times. Especially when trying to contact Grandpa Richard without an ancient carrier pigeon was next to impossible. She wasn't a baby. It was only a small lie.

At the time, Riley saw no harm in small lies.

"I tried at least. You know he's not great with texts. He still thinks twitter will tell him movie times."

Her father's eyebrows approached his hairline and he half chuckled, "Well...maybe we can get him to activate that automatic text reading app soon. He says he doesn't need it, but it's getting a little ridiculous."

"I guess."

"Want to come hang out for a bit? I am just finishing up some paperwork and then I'll be done and you can come with me to get Hannah and Simon instead of taking the bus. There's left over Halloween candy in it for you."

They walked side by side, down the crowded hospital hallways heading for her father's office. The walk was marked by silence, which wasn't particularly unusual for the father and daughter. Often neither one of them knew what to say to each other. Her mother could read her like a book (more accurately, Riley thought Mom was nosy) and probably would be probing to see what was up with Riley and why she'd come to Grey Sloan, but Dad was content not to pry.

Over the years, Riley had seen the different kinds of renovations and remodeling Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital needed to maintain state of the art status. It also really didn't hurt that the Harper Avery Foundation owned significant stake and her Dad was a member of the hospital board as well. Plastics had gotten it's own division several years back, complete with it's own outpatient section. As a result her father's spacious practice was located on the far west wing of the hospital, complete with really swank furniture and an amazing view of the sound.

Contrasted with her mother's office, which was much smaller, was located in the ER and had no windows with only a desk and a green threadbare couch for furniture. Smack dab in the middle of all the chaos of incoming trauma and high severity patients, Mama's office was far less used. Of cours,e the office locations and states reflected the differing nature of her parent's specialties. Her dad needed a comfortable and safe place where he could meet with his patients to discuss their surgeries. Her mom needed to be close for when her patients rolled in from ambulances. Plastics and Trauma were very different.

So were Mom and Dad.

April liked to jump right into the thick of things. Jackson tended to take his time to observe. Riley empathized with both tendencies.

In her father's office, she reached for the bowl of candy as Jackson sat down and began adding his signature to the mountain of paper files that sat on his desk. Riley sunk into the very forgiving chair in front of the wooden desk, in the patient's place. She fiddled to unwrap the chocolate before putting in in her mouth and glancing around her father's office as she chewed in silence. Behind his desk he had a picture of the family at Conner's high school graduation, right next to a similar photograph of a graduation of his own.

Striking how crowded Conner's picture was. Their whole family, plus a few aunts, uncles, and cousins from Ohio, as well as friends of her parents all scrambling to fit into the frame. Simon only made in by an inch, his small form barely visible in the lower left corner as he mugged for the camera.

Jackson's picture was pretty empty by comparison. Just him and Gramma and Papapa. Her dad and grandmother leaned in close together while Harper stood stiffly to the side, messing with the balance of the photo. Distant and dignified. And a little sad. Basically in line with the few memories she had of the man. Riley knew that her great-grandmother had died very close to her father's ceremony. She wondered if Jackson had wished she was there.

She doubted he'd wanted Julian by that point. Or perhaps he had wanted his father there. It was hard to tell the expression in his eyes.

"So," Dad ventured, looking up from his work, as his hand, no doubt well trained from years of being a plastic surgeon, continued to sign and initial various dotted lines with little active attention. "Your classes going okay? What is the homework load for tonight?"

Riley's eyes darted around the room, caught off guard by her father for the second time.

"Uh, sure," she replied honestly. "I don't have anything too hard really. I finished most of my reading on the bus."

"I tended to leave my reading until the last minute..." Jackson admitted with a grin.

"I just need to through together a response summary for English tomorrow and I'll be good. We're reading Great Gatsby. Remember that one, Dad? Good book, but I've read it before so it's easy to get through. Picking up on stuff I missed the first time around."

He looked momentarily confused, eyebrows drawing together in thought. Riley supposed she could give more details to try to jog his memory, but there really wasn't that much point. Once she would have tried, but today her mind was still on her crazy missing grandfather theory.

Jackson blinked, "I think I read it, but I might just be confusing it with the movie."

She nodded and unwrapped another piece of candy as her father's pen continued to race across the paperwork. She wondered if Dr. Torres new anything about how trust funds worked and could be tracked. After all, she was sure Nico said that one of this mom's had a trust. Perhaps she would reach out to her childhood playmate and go hangout, under the guise of catching up. Though, like with her own parents, Riley would be much more likely to find Callie Torres working at Grey Sloan, than she was to be at home. Probably it would be easier to just come on another day after school to talk to the orthopedic surgeon directly. Leave Nico out of it all together. Mama too.

Dad broke the silence again, "What about other stuff at school?"

"Other stuff?" Riley lifted one eyebrow incredulously.

"What about this Kent kid?"

She flushed in embarrassment,  _"Dad!"_

"Mom says you talk about him sometimes," Jackson shrugged awkwardly. "I thought it might be why you came to see bothering you or something? You can talk to me about that kind of stuff too."

Riley stared resolutely at the silver candy wrapper in her hands.

Her father swallowed uncomfortably, "If you need to, you know...or if not about him. Guys in general and all. I'm here for ya. Might not be the most comfortable subject for the both of us, but I can help."

Both father and daughter's forehead's wrinkled in apprehension. Talking about guys with her Dad was certainly one of the  _last_  things Riley wanted to do. She'd wager money that it was probably not something Dad was eager to tackle either.

"I don't really think-"

"Riley," Jackson reached over the top of his desk and placed his hands on top of hers, gently urging her to release the death grip she had on the candy wrapper. "I'm your Dad. It is my job to look out for you. That's what good dads do."

What good  _fathers_  do.

Riley slowly relaxed her fingers into his and looked up to her dad's eyes. For split second she considered telling him her theory, but the memory of a crashing handbag stilled her tongue.

He was smiling at her but his eyes held an earnest determination. And she knew it's origin. The reason Jackson tried hard with Riley and her siblings, even when he was out of his element. She had the ongoing privilege of putting up with his stilted but well meaning guidance because he was  _there_  to give it. Sure, there were days Riley was mad at her father, when even his face got on her nerves. But she knew what his face looked like. Whatever distance seemed to have grown between them, Riley could not imagine her life without him.

Dad wasn't a perfect parent, but he tried. Really hard. He never gave up.

Because his father had never looked out for him. Never asked him about his homework. Never awkwardly tried to give him advice about girls. Never explained the inner workings of the Harper Avery Foundation.

Julian Avery had done nothing for his son.

It was  _such_  a shitty thing to do. Leaving. Terrible that a man like that- who could do that-had been living his life all these years. Scot-free. No consequences. No guilt. No shame.

And something inside Riley hardened. Fury welled within her unlike any she'd previously experienced. She almost understood why her dad and Gramma avoided the subject of Julian at almost all costs. It wasn't fair and when you really about it, the need to yell scream or even throw trashcans was totally understandable. The way Julian had treated her father, her grandmother,  _her family,_ was unacceptable. And that he'd never been held accountable or made to understand the damage caused for any of it was unjust.

Penance due for sins committed.

In hindsight, that's when the idea became a crusade. When it ceased to be a lifetime of random wondering about her biological grandfather. When it became the path she had to follow. Once an idea got into her head, Riley's curiosity was unstoppable. She  _needed_  to know the answer. She was driven to enact some sort of justice. To hold Julian Avery responsible. She couldn't shake the urge. It became her quest.

Though, Riley conceded as she shivered on an unfamiliar doorstep in the cold London air three months later, the moment of realization with her dad was also a prelude to disaster. She'd lost her phone. She was running low on cash. Her mom and dad thought she was camping in the Cascades. A disaster of her own making to be sure, but a disaster nonetheless.

Complete and utter  _disaster._ Her parents were going to kill her.

Rain in London was different than rain in Seattle. Somehow it felt more wet. More depressing. Then again, Riley knew that was likely more about her perception than the actual quality of the weather. Just like the way she felt a century had passed since she'd knocked on the door of the posh townhouse in front of her. Really, only a few seconds had passed.

Riley shivered and sniffed, using one hand to try to push her damp hair out of her eyes. She glanced down at the scrap of paper in her other hand. This was the right address.

Perception could be tricky.

Anger blinds. Messes with your priorities. And it had certainly left Riley between a rock in a hard place. Even the most brilliant of minds can make the wrong choices, matter how good the intention.

She just hadn't been able to stop herself. She was crazy. This whole thing was crazy, irrational.  _Dangerous_. Probably illegal. On an intellectual level, Riley knew all of that this whole time. But it somehow wasn't enough to make her stop.

Almost as soon as they'd gone home from the hospital after Dad finished his paper work, Riley had started to research. As with any topic she fixated on, the work was very thorough. It seemed impossible that someone could disappear with out a trace and she was convinced that Julian was the buyer in the auction. For the next two months she poured over the internet for auction rules, international banking privacy laws, legal name change requirements and related privacy issues.

In the end, it was Kent Wu who knew about trust funds as a result of his own family's hefty and generational wealth. In class in the weeks following her initial idea, he's spied a google search over her shoulder. And all she'd had to do was ask. He didn't even ask for her notes or homework help or to sit with her at lunch or anything. He'd simply explained what he knew.

And winked.

As it turned out, once she understood how the laws worked and how to go about searching for someone using an alias name with plenty of money to burn, Riley didn't have that hard of a time sating her curiosity.

Julian Avery was easier to find than she expected.

Only a few clicks and a little sleuthing away, after so many years of pain and questions for her Dad. It didn't seem right. It was much too simple. She thought it was him. Using his middle name, his maternal grandmother's maiden name, as well as his Avery trust fund.

There he was: Graham Endicott.

At least she was 90% convinced Julian Avery was Graham Enidcott. All the pieces seemed to coincidental for it to be otherwise. The trust fund disbursements from both her great-grandparents were routed through many banks around the world, but if you followed them, the final recipient was a bank in London. And a G. J. Endicott was listed as the winning bidder in her Gramma's auction. And her research into the family background proved that Elizabeth Avery's mother had been named Louisa Endicott before she got married. Surely that wasn't a common name. Obscure enough for her mother not to make the connection year ago, but it still had a link to the family. Gramma and the Foundation might not have noticed either from the sea of financial transactions the Avery family created. A single name among many.

Or perhaps someone  _did_  know and just let it be. Like her Dad had said years ago,  _he_ didn't want anyone to find his father. If only she'd been as disciplined.

Regardless, everything all fit. Julian could not have vanished without a trace. All anyone had to do was  _really_  look. Follow leads. That easy. So much of it was available, buried deep in the public record. Only minimal hacking required.

Riley tried not to dwell on how similarly easy it was to string together the collection of lies she'd used to get to London. How simple, if old fashioned, it was to order plane tickets over the telephone impersonating her mother's voice and using her credit card. How quickly she'd been able to swipe her passport from the bottom drawer of her father's desk. How trustingly her parents accepted her camping with Dana lie. 4 days with her friend's family. She'd gone before. For the past 4 years in fact. Jackson and April accepted her deception without so much as a blink or a call to Dana's family.

After all she'd never given them a reason not to trust her.

Normally, Riley would consider herself a principled person. She didn't really mind following her parents rules most of the time. When they made sense. But her drive to do what was right and her need to make a difference clashed in this particular case. She could rationalize her deception. No one would know. It was for her Dad. She'd be there and back and her parents none the wiser. She'd quench her curiosity and her need for vengeance. Give Julian a piece of her mind and make him feel the guilt and shame he should feel. And be back in time to go back to school.

Laughable.

Of course, that was before Riley's baggage ended up on the wrong flight. Before she'd lost her phone on the underground. Before she'd lost her nerve and come to her senses about how certifiably crazy she was. Normal people would have realized that  _before_  they'd made it all the way to another continent. Riley was not so lucky. She was however, smart enough to know that she'd probably broken multiple laws in multiple countries getting to this point.

To her biological grandfather's doorstep. She found herself saying a quick prayer that she came out of this without being arrested.

Somehow without realizing it, Riley went ahead and made the whole thing harder. So wrapped up in the researching and planning and everything else, the exact end to her quest had always been a little fuzzy. Riley supposed on a certain level, she'd expected to be caught before making it all the way here. She should have just told Dad what she'd found out about Julian's current location. Or Mama. Or Conner. Or even Gramma.  _Anyone_. She wished she'd come to her senses before she made it here. But she'd already knocked. There was no turning back.

The door in front of her swung open, and Riley's eyes grew wide.

The man who opened the door, was tall, slim, gray and slightly long haired. Squinting in the late evening light, Julian (though he'd likely gone by Graham for most of his life at this point) tilted his head to one side, perplexed. Familiar blue eyes stared at her from thin framed glasses resting on high delicate cheekbones. There seemed to be a flicker of recognition for both of them. Riley could see looked like Harper. Like the pictures she'd seen of Julian as a young man. Like her Dad. It was very strange. His gaze darted behind her as though searching for someone else, before settling on Riley.

For all the righteous indignation she'd had to fuel her journey to London, for as much as it blinded her to reason for months, it certainly evaporated as soon as the door opened. Her words failed her. It was as though her throat had closed in on itself now that she was finally face to face with a man she'd fantasied about finding and knocking down a few pegs for the past few months. Riley felt the tears well up and tried not to hyperventilate. Certainly not a state in which she could give anyone a piece of her very capable mind.

Not that she felt all that desire at the present. She wanted to go home. She wished she'd never come.

"Graham, darling?" a woman's voice came from somewhere inside the house breaking the silence. "Who's at the door?"

Julian 'Graham' opened his mouth and seemed a little amused, "You won't believe this, but...I think it's my granddaughter."

His voice was a strange mix of accents. He raised his eyebrows at Riley as though seeking confirmation of his words and all she could do was nod, biting her lower lip and hoping the tears in her eyes would not escape.

"I suspect you must be the older one," he continued. He pursed his lips and guessed, "Hannah?"

She shook her head and stammered, "R-Riley...Hannah is three years y-younger than me."

"Ah," Julian's forehead wrinkled almost as though he was in pain. "Yes, right. Sorry...I did know that. Riley then."

The woman's voice again, "What? Your granddaughter? Doesn't your son live in the States?"

Her grandfather did not answer and scanned the empty street behind Riley, "You-you've come alone?"

Riley nodded.

"All the way from Seattle? By yourself?"

Riley nodded again.

Julian's eyebrows approached his hairline. He looked stunned, "Why?"

"I-" her lower lip quivered. Because of a crazy idea? A desire to avenger her father? Because she'd wanted to solve a mystery? She honestly didn't even know anymore. "You should know how much you screwed up and hurt my-I wanted to...yell at you."

"I see," her biological grandfather took that admission in stride and with a small nod. "Perhaps a bit later though. Does Jackson know you've come? Does Catherine?"

Riley shook her head.

"Oh dear," Julian sighed, frowning deeply. "That's not very good, is it?"

Her eyes dropped to her shoes. Strange that a guilty man could make her feel guilt.

"Wait!" From inside the house. " _J_ _ust_ one granddaughter? Alone? I didn't think they were old enough to be travelling. Graham?"

Riley watched as Julian leaned his head back into the house, "Just the one alone, Bea. And I rather expect she's not. Her father doesn't know she is here. She came by herself."

He stepped back and ushered her into the house, "Let's get you inside and dried off, alright? You must be very cold."

She hesitated, years of 'stranger danger' lectures from her mother spinning through her head. He may be her blood grandparent, and she may have tracked him down but the man in front of her was a complete stranger to Riley. However, she was freezing and damp and Julian was holding out an inviting looking wool sweater to her. She took a careful step into the foyer of the house and let the man who abandoned her father wrap her in the warm garment.

A tiny older woman with clearly died blond hair poked her head into the entry room, smiling brightly at the dripping teenager in her front room, "Hello dear! What a surprise. Come and sit. We've got tea and Turkish delights if you are hungry. Not terribly healthy of course, but we were just having desert..."

Julian guided Riley into what appeared to be a living room, hand hovering just behind her back as though he wanted to touch her. Riley remained silent, falling heavily into the chair she was offered, slightly uncertain at how ordinary he seemed in person. The man who'd created so much pain in her father's life had draped her in a fuzzy sweater with a lamb on it. Riley was unsettled by his ambiguity. She wanted him to be wholly good or wholly bad.

She should never have come.

Julian sat in the chair opposite, staring at her as Bea flitted about pouring Riley a cup of tea. Riley didn't much feel like drinking, but holding the cup made her hands warm. She swallowed hard, uncertain what to do next. Bea, who she could only assume was Julian's wife or girlfriend, left the room after setting up the tea, not so subtly leaving the recently introduced family members to their own devices. All Riley could do was stare. Somehow, the questions she had for this man all disappeared. Finally finding Julian after years of curiosity, did not feel as satisfying as she'd imagined. 

"You look so much like Jackson," her grandfather commented after a beat.

Riley set her jaw, but didn't answer.

"You have to call him," Julian continued. "I can't have him not knowing where you are."

The memory of a trashcan crashing to the floor echoed in her head.

Riley snapped, "But you're fine with him not knowing where you are for decades?  _Graham._ "

The old man looked sad, but he did not take the bait, "As I said, you may yell at me all you want. But first, you have to call your family. I insist. I am sure they're worried."

Calculating time zones and travel times, Riley suspected her parents still assumed she was in the mountains without phone service. They would not be worried for a couple more days. Julian of course could not understand the extent of her lies. Or maybe he could, given the intricacies of his own.

"If I catch my flight, I could make it back without anyone knowing," Riley huffed.

Though without her phone and the vital email confirmation, nor the hard copy return ticket stowed in her missing baggage, the odds of that happening were probably low. She lacked her mother's ID and credit card to verify her purchase in person at the counter.

But Julian did not know how big her disaster was.

"I'm not comfortable with that," her biological grandfather said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "You are going to contact your parents and tell them where you are and who you are with. And then we'll all figure out what to do next. You can even have your yell."

"I lost my phone," a blush of embarrassment rushing to her cheeks. "It fell on the underground. I didn't mind the gap."

A ghost of a smile spread on Julian's face, "Well, we have do phoning capabilities. Video phoning even. You know the number?"

Sighing, Riley hung her head. What a mess. Her parents were going to be so angry. Dad would...she didn't even want to think about her dad. She feared he would become a stranger. 

But there was nothing for it. Mere minutes later she was watching a screen as it video dialed her home in Seattle. She'd opted for video in the hopes that seeing the image of Julian would potentially save her some protracted explanation. Like ripping off a band aid. It was only late morning there and on a weekend no less. Someone was bound to be there. Julian stood next to her, close but not touching. Riley couldn't quite look at him.

Her sister's squinting face appeared on the screen, "Who is this?"

Riley gulped, and Julian gestured for her to speak.

"Riley is that you?" Hannah asked in confusion. "Aren't you camping? Who is that?"

Voice finally returned to her throat. "Are Mom and Dad there?"

"Yeah. Dad just got back from golf. Mom and Simon are rock painting in the back-"

"I need to talk to them." Her voice wavered on the last word.Julian nodded in encouragement and Riley was able to continue, "Mom and Dad. Just them."

You never want to think that you can hurt people, certainly not the people you love. But you do. You can. Without even meaning to.  

When her parents finally appeared on the screen and Riley haltingly explained all that she'd done and all her lies, she could see the hurt creeping into their expressions, mixed in with shock and plenty of anger. If looks could kill, Julian would certainly be dead under Jackson's fierce scowl. Riley would probably be at least comatose.

Her mother blinked, somewhat disbelieving. Her voice was high, as it always was when she was emotional and felt things were out of her control, "You are in  _London_  right now? But how did you..."

"I-" Riley sniffed. "I lied. S-stole. Pretended to be you."

The words didn't seem to really compute with April, "What? How could you? Where are you staying? Are you okay?"

Julian leaned in the frame and began to explain, faltering on how to address the daughter in law he'd never met, "She seems well...Doctor. And she is more than welcome to stay here. We can look after her until-"

"You! Shut up!" Jackson growled at the screen and the tone was enough to make Julian wilt. "What the hell, Riley?"

She flinched. Dad never sweared  _at_ her _._

"Sorry." She knew it wasn't enough. It sounded like nothing to her ears. "I got a little carried away. I thought if I could find him, maybe I could-"

"She wants to yell at me. On your behalf, I assume," Julian interjected again. "Good intentions. Badly executed."

"You are in so much trouble, I cannot even begin to demonstrate!" Dad's voice was cold. Sharp. Scary. Mom didn't intervene or disagree.

Her father swore again and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced to her mother, and they wordlessly considered what to do.

Finally her mother stated, "We're coming to get you as soon as possible."

A sudden rush of relief as well as a cold hard fear made their way into Riley's body.

April started mumbling about possibly asking Cristina Yang to go get Riley, because she also lived in Europe and was at least someone they knew and trusted. At that point, Riley really couldn't take much more in even though the call was still connected.

The first of many tears had let loose from her eyes, leading down an avalanche. She tried to catch her breath as her shoulders shook and the weight of her actions seemed to crush her. She couldn't fight back her sobs. For the first time in her life she felt completely stupid. 

Riley was afraid of the way her parents were looking at her. Their trust was broken. Shattered in fact. Perhaps irreplaceable. She had a feeling or maybe it was a fear that from this point on Mom and Dad were always going to look at her differently.  _Think_  of her differently. She could not imagine how she could ever really atone.

'That time Riley ran off to London and broke laws and found her long lost grandfather' would never possibly become one of those fondly remembered fucks ups, like the time she'd tried to put Simon in the dishwasher or when she'd stood up to the board in her first meeting. Riley was afraid that this would always be akin to betrayal.

She buried her head in her hands. A hesitant, gentle touch patted her back. Julian. It did little to console her.

Riley wasn't afraid her parents would stop loving her. No she knew that was pretty much an impossibility. But she was afraid, they would never trust her again. With good reason.  She made bad decisions. Arrogant assumptions. She had not thought things through. Riley wasn't sure she deserved trust.

Love is durable, love can sustain. Trust in contrast is fragile and not easily repaired.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hey guys! Long time no see. Can I tell you how excited I am about baby girl Avery on the show? SO EXCITED! Sorry to leave you hanging for so long after last chapter, but this was a tricky chapter to get out. I am still not sure I got it exactly right, but I think it's as ready as I can make it. Thank you so much to everyone who sends feedback and who is still around reading this story. Let me know what you think, and enjoy!  
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_Absence and Presence_

Jackson Avery was livid.

He could barely see straight, he was so mad. It was a kind of consuming anger that overcame the senses completely. Indeed it was the kind of emotion Jackson had worked for most of his life to learn to temper and control. To clamp down and contain in a hidden corner of his soul. However, that was all for nothing. There was no controlling this. It bubbled up from the depths, like hot lava running through his veins, coming unexpectedly from a part of himself Jackson never really wanted to acknowledge he even had.

He didn't even feel the ache in his jaw as his teeth clenched like a vice.

The video conference screen in front of Jackson seemed unreal and his ears were filled with a white noise so it seemed that the conversation around him was suddenly far away. It seemed incomprehensible that his oldest daughter was on another _continent_. With his own dead beat father, no less. Though he'd aged, Julian was completely recognizable. He looked a lot like Harper had during Jackson's youth.

Eerily so.

Riley was crying hard now gasping loudly between sobs, but Jackson couldn't really care over the all consuming heat of his own anger. It only distantly registered in his mind that he could never remember her ever sobbing this way. Not even when Joe and Karen Kepner passed away, and she'd taken that pretty hard.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, breathing unevenly with a long sniff, words almost inaudible through the heavy tears. "I'm so sorry."

Beside him, Jackson despite his anger was able to observe his wife as she talked to their daughter.

"What were you thinking?!" April was stunned and clearly angry as well. Jackson did catch the way Riley almost shrunk at the tone of her mother's voice.

"I-I just I thought I would get caught before..." the rest of the 16 year old's words trailed off into a whine as Riley cried even harder. Jackson was able to make out one more, "I wanted to help. I'm really sorry, Mama."

His wife took a deep breath before continuing more rationally than Jackson could manage, "I appreciate your apology. It doesn't make things right and there are going to _major_ consequences starting the moment we come to get you."

"I know."

Of all the kids, Riley was usually the one who fought tooth and nail for fairness, if not for absolution from punishment. Even when she did wrong, Riley did not like to apologize. It did register with Jackson how unusual it was for her not to protest or bargain. But he was so consumed by his feelings, he didn't really care.

Then Riley directly addressed him,"I'm sorry, Dad."

Pulling out of the haze of his anger, Jackson glanced up at the call briefly. Julian's hand rested soothingly on Riley's back, speaking in soft murmurs to the distraught teen. He felt his lip curl into a sneer and the anger flooded back to the surface.

The _bastard_.

It was just a simple touch, but Jackson had never hated the man more.

Underneath the hate there was also a twinge of jealousy that he was in no hurry to examine. He stood up without looking at his daughter again, let alone acknowledging her words.

"Jackson-" his wife's voice did not slow his steps.

Rational parenting might be something April could muster, but in the moment it was well beyond his own capabilities. He was pissed, roiling in hatred for Julian and a mixture of uncharitable and unparental feelings toward Riley. How could she do this to him? _Why_ would she? He was angry. He was frightened. Inexplicably he felt ashamed.

So Jackson walked away from the call screen, not caring how rude or abrupt he seemed. He just couldn't deal. His mind could barely even process the fact that he'd just laid eyes on his father for the first time in _decades._ On the screen was a stranger who'd been absent most of Jackson's life.

He took the steps two by two, kicking at discarded shoes, toys, and dirty clothes hampers alike, and made it to the master bedroom before sinking heavily on the edge of his bed. Zootsuit the cat fled out of the room with a startled hiss, but Jackson took no notice. Rage both consumed and exhausted him. He clenched and unclenched his fists somehow uncertain of what he should do with his hands.

Jackson breathed deeply, trying to catch his breath and arrest the inexplicable tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes.

"That mother fucker."

He couldn't even say for sure who the words were directed at. And that realization didn't even bring him the guilt it should have.

He couldn't think. He couldn't get the image of his estranged father comforting his runaway teenager out of his mind. Jackson held his head in his hands trying to understand how everything had come to this. He thought that he'd effectively cut Julian out of his life years ago when he shredded his father's last letter and dealt with his grandfather's will. He'd left his father hanging just as he'd been left as a child. A taste of his own medicine.

It was what Julian deserved.

Though apparently his daughter thought differently. Not that he'd ever told her much about that part of his childhood. He tried most of the time not to dwell and to put it out of his mind completely. It was easier that way. Especially with Harper gone and his mother and Richard together. The children had a grandfather. The subject of Julian need never be brought up. Not if Jackson could help it.

Riley was a smart kid. If there was one thing he actually did understand about her out of the ocean of things that baffled him, Jackson knew that his daughter was intelligent. Then again, she should have been smart enough to understand that Jackson would never _want_ to be reunited with his father.

Still having trouble regulating his breathing, Jackson sat up once more.

"Dad?" Hannah appeared in the doorway, with Simon in tow, a streak of paint on his cheek from his and April's rock project. "What's going on?"

He knew that he should calm himself down. He knew he should pull things together into some sort of control. After all he was not just an abandoned son in this situation, nor was his simply Riley's angry father. His younger children were blissfully unaware of all the ways his world had just changed. But the rage still burned in Jackson's chest and it was all he could do not to snap at the pair.

"Riley is in trouble," he managed to explain through gritted teeth. "You need to go."

"What happened?" Hannah didn't listen and stepped into the room, Simon following close behind. "What did she do?"

"You need to leave!"

Jackson didn't have the bandwidth to argue or explain, his mind was too full of fire and in trying to make some sort of sense out of his oldest daughter's actions. He felt what little grip he had on the situation slipping. He just wanted to be alone.

"But Daddy, are you okay?" Simon asked, head tilted in concern as one hand slowly approached his father's arm. "Are you crying?"

Something in Jackson snapped. He recoiled from his son's almost touch.

He was _not_ crying. He would not cry. He _could_ not cry. Enough tears had been shed in his childhood over Julian to last a lifetime. He wasn't even aware that he was moving until he felt something solid and heavy in his hands. And by the time he had the where with all to understand that it was April's bible, nearest object to him on the nightstand, it was too late.

" _Go!_ "

The book was already sailing through the air across the room toward his younger children. It slammed into the wall next to the door. Simon yelped and cowered, and as quickly as the book make it's journey, Hannah had pulled her little brother behind her, using her body to shield him.

Jackson held his head in his hands, unable to face the scene before him, fully expecting Hannah to burst into tears and the last thing he needed was another crying daughter on his conscience. Instead it was Simon who sobbed. Then again, he'd always been the one who cried. And Jackson felt awful. Hannah only frowned and ushered her little brother out of the room. She threw glance back into the room and caught Jackson's gaze before making her way into the hall.

He was suddenly reminded of his mother.

Scowling at her father, Hannah pursed her lips, "Riley must have done something _really_ bad."

She didn't seem to fully believe her words and he could only huff. It _was_.

Wasn't it?

Simon's voice echoed in from the hallway, a wail that cut straight to Jackson's heart. "Daddy threw a book at me!"

Jackson couldn't make out her words, but he could hear April's voice in the hall now too. Shhing. Murmuring. Whispering. Her tone was soothing, no doubt comforting to Simon. At least Jackson hoped his son found the comfort he clearly needed. Because of something _he'd_ done. He briefly considered which was worse, having a father that threw books at you or one that left you and never looked back?

It left a bad taste in his mouth. Or had he bit his tongue?

A wave of shame swept through Jackson's chest and he held his head in his hands again. He basically just threw a tantrum in front of his children. What kind of an adult did that? What kind of person? He was meant to be a grown ass man. An example to his children. And yet? His angry thoughts turned once again to his elder daughter and father. There was Jackson's answer. The kind of adult who was pushed to his breaking point by people who should love him right, but had caused him pain. He did his best to take deep slow breaths, though the effort did little to stem his overwhelming feelings.

It wasn't long before the commotion in the hallway died down and the bed room door opened slowly. April leaned her head in, looking first to Jackson on the bed and next to the floor beside the door. She knelt and retrieved her bible. The plastic cover was bent.

"Tell me what you are feeling?" she asked, voice hitching as she smoothed the cover.

Somehow unable to answer, Jackson only crossed his arms as he watched his wife walk to the his spot on the bed.

"Tell me," April repeated somewhat more forcefully, brandishing the bible in his face. "Tell me what you are feeling? Because _that's_ not happening again. _Ever_."

She place the book back on the night stand with a decisive thump. There was an edge in her tone, but April's voice was somehow less angry than he expected, and that loosened his tongue. To a point. Because he agreed with her. And because he believed that she would not let it happen again any more than he would.

"No. It won't."

He would not lose control in front of his younger children again. Jackson wasn't so sure he could make the same promise about Riley, even to himself.

Watching impassively, Jackson remained in his seat on the bed as April moved to the closet and pulled out their luggage. He took in her movements as she began to methodically pack bags for both of them. Taking clothes out of the drawers-socks, underwear, bras- unfolding and then refolding for the suitcases. Always a plan. Always a method.

Always a _right_ way.

There was no need to ask. It was clear the some arrangements were already in the works. Flight booked. Perhaps more. Which was well and good, as clearly something needed to happen to get Riley back, and Jackson certainly was not in a position to handle any of it.

Sure enough, April proved him right.

"I've chartered us a private flight in about 4 hours and got us a hotel near Green Park, so we are gonna pack and Callie and Arizona will watch Hannah and Simon. I couldn't get through to your mom or Richard on their trip, but I called Conner and he's going to tell them when he can get through. When we get to London we can go straight to your father's to get Riley. I have the address, it is not far from our hotel..."

As her commentary trailed off, April was watching him too. Jackson knew she still wanted him to open up. He wasn't sure he could. He still couldn't bring himself to examine all the feelings that gripped his chest like a vice. It was much easier to be angry. Or to avoid it.

Jackson swallowed, "I can't believe Riley did this."

It was not a feeling and it was not what April wanted to hear, but it was something. It was all he could give.

His wife looked at him intently before she shook her head in disbelief, "I can't either."

Jackson had noticed something was off with his daughter. He wasn't completely oblivious. Looking back at the past few months it was clear that something was up. She was difficult for him and he could admit that, but she was 16 and that wasn't an easy age in any sense. Riley had always been a bit of a loner, spending time in her room and to herself, but it seemed that had magnified in recent months. He could tell she'd grown distant, but he'd thought it was because of that kid at her school. That made sense to him in a way, even if it was unsettling. Teenage crushing was a normal thing. But sometimes people didn't come as easily to Riley as knowledge, he knew. Adding hormones and boys into the mix was bound to have an impact. Or so Jackson had assumed.

Instead the whole time, she'd probably been plotting _this_.

Putting those pieces together, adding up all the signs in his head that he'd over looked in the past few months was enough to stoke his indignation. How the hell did this happen?

"I thought _you_ were keeping tabs on her. You talk to her a lot. I thought she was just having growing pains or figuring out her deal with that boy!" Jackson snapped. "Kenneth or Kent...or whatever the hell his name is."

April's packing paused and she looked at Jackson sharply.

"So did I, Jackson," she retorted. "It wasn't like she told me she was up to anything. In no conversation did Riley ever say, 'oh, by the way Mom, I stole your credit card and bought tickets to London to find my long lost grandfather'. I would have stopped her. You know that."

"You should have asked! You should have suspected! You should have _known_! You're her mother."

April huffed and rolled her eyes, "Well, excuse me for not being a mind reader. _Clearly_ I should be an expert at this point."

"Riley is exhausting," Jackson muttered, running a hand through the back of his head again.

"That's not very fair for you to say. You're her father."

The implication was clear. An accusation that was undoubtedly true. Jackson's gaze fell. He knew he left Riley to April a lot of the time. It felt easier that way.

They understood each other. Talked a lot. About all the kinds of things he didn't really care to discuss or examine. Politics and God and science and who knew what else. Jackson was an educated man, a man who loved science, but damn there were times he just wanted to come home and leave all of that _academic_ stuff in his life behind. He had enough infighting and politics, unexplained outcomes, and slicing through the human body at work and as an Avery in the Foundation most of the time. He loved his practice and his roles, but he didn't often feel like wading through it all again once he got home. Especially because his daughter's energy to deal with these kinds of subjects seemed insatiable. April had the stamina for it.

So he often left Riley and all her questions and curiosities to her mother.

Jackson swallowed another round of guilt at his next realization. He sometimes did the same thing with Simon. Not as much as with Riley, but enough to magnify the shame. Simon was nearly eleven, but as April put it, he was 'young' eleven. Whimsical, of fey, and full of excitement for things that Jackson had a hard time connecting with. Magic and music. Rocks and religion. Sometimes he could go along with it. He could creep his way through the backyard looking for frogs and fairy rings. He could support Simon in his plays at church or school. He could learn a card trick or two to teach the boy.

But other times the chasm felt so big.

It was easier to let April handle their youngest child's eccentricities. More and more Jackson knew he was pulling back. And perhaps that is how the distance began over Riley's seriousness. Because when she was younger, while she'd still been intense, Jackson had been able to connect. He'd helped her practice soccer and taught her to how to maintain poise under scrutiny.

For a while he was able to connect with Riley. Until he wasn't. Same with Simon. That was just how it went. Then again, he somehow doubted his youngest child would pull a stunt like this five years down the line.

Jackson loved his kids very deeply even now, underneath his anger. Though it was hard. He was better for knowing them and didn't deserve the family he had. After all, before April and the children, Jackson and his grandfather and mother had kind of sucked at families.

All they knew was competition and expectation and reputation. Even his grandmother had been unable to make headway against all of that.

It was no wonder Jackson had a hard time figuring out how to connect with his own children. Until very recently with his mother, and never with Harper, there had been no other means of connecting with Averys beyond legacy. He'd grown up with a messed up idea of how families worked.

And _that_ was at least in part Julian Avery's fault.

Hannah was easier for him. Less intense than her sister, more lighthearted, and somehow able to meet him halfway in most things. A simpler person than Riley. She would curl up next to him and watch basketball games. Or chill at the Seattle Center with a hot dog. Hannah cracked jokes. She knew when it was just nice to share a room in silence.

Conner was the easiest to get along with of any of the children. At times like this Jackson was reminded of just how much he relied on his quiet, dependable oldest son. There was some relief in the fact that he'd managed to raise one child through the teen years with little incident. Conner was safe and sound in college. Jackson felt a sudden urge to pick up the phone and call him. He _missed_ Conner.

He'd been a challenge as a teenager too. But at his worst he'd been nowhere near as bad as this. Jackson's jaw grew tight. Riley had crossed a line.

All the kids did typical disobedient stuff. Backtalk, little lies, the odd fight. Conner snuck in a girlfriend into the house once. But this? Not only did it cut deeply into Jackson's oldest most painful wound, but this was _illegal_. Probably.

Thoughts clearing, Jackson blinked in irritation, when he realized his wife was still talking.

"I do my best with Riley, Jackson," she said. "I really do, but I told you for years she was asking questions. About-about him. Julian. Her biological grandfather. Questions I don't know. Ones I never had the answer to. I don't quite agree, but I've had to accept you not wanting to share this stuff with me. Riley doesn't understand any of that. She's a determined kid, so while on the one hand I am shocked she did this-that she could even find him and make it over there, shocked she could lie like this- another part of me isn't that surprised she was looking. The curiosity was there. Maybe you and your mom should have-"

Jackson seized a swell of righteous indignation. He and Catherine were the ones left behind. Not Julian. Not Riley.

He crossed his arms and sneered, "Oh, so this is _my_ fault?"

"Jackson," April's voice was tight as she added a final piece of clothing to their suitcases. She sat down on other end of their bed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "No, blame game. Riley is responsible for her choices. Just like we are. Just like you are."

Jackson was hardly chastened. Sure, let them all be responsible. Except Julian. He got away with leaving.

"Then, I don't want her with _him_."

"Well, I don't know what else to do for us to be able to pick her up quickly," April replied, sounding more and more exasperated. She reached out and started zipping the bags with gusto. "I don't want her wandering around London by herself, and I am not sure we can trust her to be alone at a hotel anyway. I did think about asking Cristina to fly over from Zurich, but honestly I don't think she can get there any faster than we could, given the timing and her schedule. Your- Graham-He- _Julian_ has offered to let her stay with him and to keep an eye on her until we can get her. I know you don't like it. I don't really like it either. We don't have a lot of options, Jackson."

He crossed his arms, still not moving to help her with any of the luggage, "We should tell her to go to the US embassy. She is a minor US citizen abroad without permission."

April's head snapped up from the suitcases, brows furrowed in concern, "I did think of that, but don't know if we should involve authorities. They might want to investigate and we still don't know everything she did to find your father and it probably did involve hacking. Some of it might be skirting the law. I don't want her to get arrested."

"Maybe she should."

"Jackson!" His wife looked horrified.

He shook himself. He didn't want his daughter arrested. Did he? In one sense that seemed overkill, but there was a part of Jackson that was still roiling in disbelief at Riley's actions. Crying out for some sort of reckoning.

Jackson sniffed and shrugged refusing to make eye contact.

April continued more softly, reaching out a tentative hand to his wrist, "Besides, I think-I think Julian might want to talk to you. And whatever way you want to handle stuff with your Dad, I support, but maybe you should talk to him. Even just to tell him how much he hurt you and that you will never forgive him. Maybe this happened for a reason. Maybe there's closure to be found in all of this."

Perhaps because somewhere else inside Jackson was jealous Riley could be so bold as to find Julian Avery. After all, after Harper's death, he'd specifically had told his lawyers not to invest too much energy into finding the man, will be damned. It was justifiable because his father wasn't worth any effort. How can you be worth anything if you abandon your child. Julian Avery was _worthless_. Jackson told himself that for most of his life as a justification for not trying to learn more about his father.

But now he realized that the thought had never brought him comfort. Only anger. Jackson jerked his hand away from April. His wife always hoped for happy endings, but her optimism meant nothing. Jackson knew better.

"Fuck closure."

* * *

Hours later, to the quiet hum of airplane engines as their private jet hurtled across the Atlantic ocean, Jackson's anger was still there buzzing in the background. It was an anchor for him, in the swirl of other uncomfortable emotions and memories the situation with Riley and Julian had brought up. He wanted to hold on to it, because he was afraid it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

Without the anger, Jackson did not want to face the rest of his feelings.

But as he looked across the aisle to his sleeping wife, Jackson felt a stab of guilt. Just like when he'd thrown the Bible at his younger two children, he realized he was letting his anger get the best of him. He took some of his anger out on the one person who always supported him. Always, though not always in ways he liked. As a friend even before being his spouse. And yet, their conversation in the bedroom had only deteriorated.

Jackson realized that the circumstances were not April's fault.

It did make the most sense to just let Riley stay where she was and there really weren't a lot of choices here and his wife had done her best to organize things so that they could quickly retrieve their wayward teenager. In a matter of hours they could quickly make their way to Julian's townhouse and grab Riley. Intellectually, Jackson got that. He really did. But for whatever reason he still found himself _mad_ about it and he couldn't stop himself from lashing out at April as though the situation was her fault.

By the time they'd boarded the plane it was at the point where Jackson had crossed his arms and stretched out his legs to the seat across from him. The seat that April usually took when they flew a charter like this. Unable to face the hurt he knew he would see on his wife's face, Jackson had stared straight ahead as she moved across the aisle to another seat. He'd ordered liquor and jammed headphones in his ears to drown out her overtures of conversation and the quiet sniffles his ignoring had caused.

It hadn't really worked.

Now as they approached London, April was sound asleep. His anger had receded enough that Jackson sighed. He stood up and grabbed a blanket, tucking the corners gently around his sleeping wife's shoulders. At his touch, April stirred slightly, mumbling nonsense before slipping under once more.

Jackson smiled at her sadly.

It was so easy to get angry at her these days. He knew when it started creeping in bit by bit and he felt bad. He knew he was not particularly adept at handling certain topics, especially those related to his father and grandfather or family and somehow those nerves were always the ones April hit. Harper's death was not an end at all in many ways. He'd taken on a bigger role in the Foundation and had to contend with many agendas and unfinished ideas the old man had left behind. Messes Harper had left Jackson to clean up, and it felt like he and April were often of different minds when it came to the charity.

Getting older wasn't as easy as Catherine Avery made it look.

Once, long before he died, Joe Kenper warned his son in law of the middle years.

"There'll be a time in your life," the soft spoken farmer had said sagely. "When it won't feel this easy. Being married. Having a family. When it won't feel as satisfying. It will just feel hard."

Looking back, Jackson marveled at how calm the old farmer could be after 40 plus years of marriage and four children. Here, he was as many times a father and half the number of decades, but no where near as serene as his late father in law. Jackson knew he was more tense than Joe.

He had not believed the words at the time. He'd grinned and grunted noncommittally. He and Joe sat side by side on the front porch looking out at Kepner farm, an infant Riley passed out in Jackson's arms as he rocked her gently. It had taken April's family a long time to warm up to him, given their perspective on the whole runaway bride thing. They had no knowledge of the romantic nature of the relationship prior to all of that. Joe had long believed that Jackson was simply April's friend. And while he'd never been anything but cordial with Jackson, they'd only started to grow friendly after Conner was born. Friendly, but never particularly close.

So Jackson was inclined to listen, just to keep in the farmer's good graces, even if he did not understand.

Joe looked at Jackson, eyes twinkling, "You don't believe me, but it's true. Those middle years are tough. You won't be newly weds. Your kids will start growing up. Having their own business. Needing you less. And you'll realize that you've both changed. That maybe you'll see things in her you didn't know about when you got married. Maybe she'll learn things about you you don't want to admit to yourself. You'll both be different from where you started. That's not easy."

Riley gurgled and shifted in Jackson's arms as the old man gestured to the empty fields adjacent to the Kepner house and continued, "The trick to getting through the middle years is changing to together. Growing together. Like the rails of a train track, side by side and the train stays on the right path. Hmm? Being different people, but still people who are different together."

At the time, Jackson had only nodded, and hummed into his daughter's soft hair. He'd chuckled internally over the old man's quaint wisdom. _Train metaphors._ He'd been fairly certain that he and April had already been through their share of hard. Between their rocky courtship and Conner's near loss, he thought that middle year thing was something that would never apply to them. Their train would be fine. He'd listened only half aware, just to humor his father in law.

But Jackson was wrong. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as the plane hurtled closer and closer to London. To Julian. To Riley.

Those middle years came, just like Joe said. Slipping in as easily as sand between toes at the beach. Right around the time his grandfather died it all came to a head. He'd lost his grandfather, and that had set off this chain of events he didn't want to didn't know how to handle it all. He felt like Joe would be disappointed in him. Along with Harper. Jackson was not good enough for him in the end. Not good enough _alone_ for Harper at the end of his life. He'd still asked for Julian as he was dying. As much as Jackson and Harper hadn't had an easy relationship, Jackson would have done anything _anything_ for the old man in the end.

Except, the one thing Harper asked for, Jackson could not do.

After a life time of telling himself that living up to his grandfather's expectations didn't matter, _this_ was what made Jackson feel like a failure. He wasn't good enough. He ignored overtures from his father and had no way of reaching out. Didn't really want to reach out anyway, but in that he failed Harper, because the dying old man _wanted_ his son and not his grandson.

And then April had been there too, yelling at him about trust and secrets and being left out.

Because to her, despite the frequent squabbles among the Kepner sisters and her parents mild disapproval of her marriage to a non-believer, to April family never really meant anything _bad_. Jackson understood that in her own life, sometimes family was the only space where _belonging_ could be found, even if it wasn't a comfortable fit.

Secrets were a hurt for her and not a sparing kindness.

But for Jackson it was different. He could understand why his wife felt excluded, but he also could not do the one thing she asked him to do.

He could not let her in until he'd faced all of his feelings and demons himself. For Jackson, it was not a matter of trust-what he shared with his wife or did not- it was a matter of weakness. Jackson's weakness and his family's weakness laid bare for all to see. For himself to see.

It was easier to lash out.

So instead, as he'd done in the years following Harper's death, Jackson caught himself looking April with disdain. Rising to anger far more often than he should, less and less able to keep his issues with his father and grandfather out of his mind, no matter how he tried to escape. Trips to the bar grew more frequent. His hobbies didn't bring him peace anymore. His family only could in fits and starts.

Jackson knew he was stewing, on and on- year after year, but he couldn't help himself.

How dare April interfere with his father's will? How dare she suggest that they see counselor? How dare she suggest their runaway child spend the night with the man who'd absence had so scarred Jackson all his life?

Something had shifted something between them. Jackson knew it and to his shame, April knew it too. He just was not sure how to fix it all. He felt paralyzed in these middle years. And of course, beneath it all, there was a part of Jackson that was _grateful_ she dared. Grateful she stayed with him. He had no idea what he would do without April. The foundation of his life, much more so than his parents or his name.

He sighed and took a final drink and promised himself that whatever happened with his father today, he was done taking it out on his wife. He'd do whatever it took to get past this. Talking, counseling, the works. These middle years would not get the best of Jackson.

The anger still vibrated through his body, but he knew that it was Julian who deserved it. Julian who made Jackson a failure when it came to his grandfather. Julian who made Jackson feel weak.

Even thinking that man's name filled Jackson with rage once more, and he heard his jaw crack. He opened and closed his fingers, willing himself to calm just needed to keep his head under control.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about Riley's choices. He just wanted to get her home and away from his father.

"Hey," Jackson whispered gently, nudging April's shoulder and pressing a kiss to her forehead, as their flight pulled into a chartered gate at Heathrow Airport. "We're here."

The trip to the home of "Graham Endicott" by taxi went by faster than it probably should have. There were plans to make. Punishments to agree on. Yet, they were silent most of the way, still tense from their trip. To Jackson's relief his wife held his hand when he slid his fingers between hers. April did not let go, even as chewed her lips nervously, and looked out the window. Jackson tried to tamp down his rage, trying in vain to prepare himself for an encounter with a man who abandoned him over 40 years previous.

Soon, Jackson found himself standing nervously in front of a wealthy but uniform looking townhouse, near London's famous Green Park, April at his side. It was startling in it's mediocrity. Certainly the home of someone wealthy, but it lacked the ornate over the top style that Jackson associated with Harper Avery. Hand in hand they purposefully strode up the building's front steps. A shiver ran through Jackson's body and he was surprised to find that he was shaking. His jaw tightened and it felt as though he was paralyzed.

He just wanted to get in, get Riley, and get the hell away from this place.

April raised her hand to the door, glancing at Jackson apprehensively as she paused, "Jackson? Are you-"

"I'm fine," Jackson replied with a wince. He did not intend to snarl. Willing himself to be more calm, he continued, "I'll be fine. There's no need to linger. We can just get Riley and go back to the airport."

"Right," his wife agreed, taking deep anxious breaths. She lifted her had once again.

He swallowed, waiting April to knock, "Right."

She paused once again, glancing at Jackson anxiously. "No hitting."

"I'm not gonna hit _anyone_ ," Jackson huffed, leaning forward and rang the doorbell urgently. He was still mad, but more in control. He was certainly _not_ going to lay a hand on his own daughter. And Julian wasn't worth the effort.

The door flew open, causing both April and Jackson to gasp in surprise. They were greeted by a diminutive old woman who was smiling far too brightly for the situation or for Jackson's jetlag. This must be the 'girlfriend'. He vaguely remembered seeing her hovering in the background during the Riley's video call, though he could not recall her name.

Bette? Barb? Bea?

"Well, look who it is? I assume you are this lovely girl's parents?" the woman said brightly, ushering them in, despite their reluctance. "See? Here they are. Right on time, dear."

Behind her, curled up in a corner, wearing a sweater about three sizes too big, was Riley. She looked about the same as Jackson felt. Though she hung her head, Jackson could see the dark circles under her eyes and it was clear she'd been crying. Her arms were crossed in front of her tightly. She looked young and small and frightened. Jackson instantly felt some of his anger chill toward his daughter. Somewhat. She was still in big trouble, but he could admit to himself that it was a release to see that she was okay.

For a moment everything seemed to stand still, the only sound heard was the soft _click_ of the front door closing.

April finally ventured, "Riley?"

"Oh, Mama," Riley balled leaping forward and wrapping her arms around April.

Instantly, both mother and daughter started balling, but also talking to each other in loud breathless bursts. Jackson had spent years perfecting his ability to interpret the wails and sniffles. For all April had been stern on the video call, her relief clearly overtook anger in person.

"What were you _thinking_?" she gripped her daughter's cheeks with both hands and looked her sternly in the eye."Lying to us? Flying over here by yourself? Anything could have happened to you!"

"I wasn't, Mom! I got carried away!"

"You are in so much trouble. We're so disappointed in you."

"I know I am, and I won't won't complain about whatever punishment. I'll-I'll go to boarding school. I'll never leave my room again! I'll never use my phone! Anything. I am so so sorry. I won't ever do anything like this again and tell Dad I won't-I promise!"

_Tell Dad._

Jackson winced. He was right there next to her. Were they so disconnected that Riley didn't think she could talk to him? But of course, he realized with a sickening clench of his stomach, that _yes_ obviously they were. He would not be standing in his father's house in London otherwise. Jackson was still standing in the doorway, seemingly frozen on the spot.

He knew he should probably at least acknowledge his daughter's words, but his feelings were still a coil of anger and frustration.

Jackson felt something twist in his gut, and he reached out to his daughter. His hand hovered near her back, yet something stopped him from touching her. He still couldn't look at her in the eye. He wondered if Riley had any idea just how hard this was for him. How much it brought up for him. But then, it was clear that she'd never meant to hurt Jackson. Like he'd tried not to fail Harper, he could understand that in her own way, perhaps Riley was trying not to fail him. In some twisted way, perhaps she thought all of this might fix something.

Neither if them understood each other well enough. Jackson's fingers closed into a fist and fell back to his side.

Like a little prickle or an itch, Jackson suddenly became aware of another set of eyes watching him silently from the doorway at the end of the hall. The design of the house meant that that corner was slightly obscured by shadow but Jackson didn't need light to identify who the figure was. The man was tall, and lean, standing casually with his hands jammed into his pockets. Except for the worn out looking blue sweater (very unbecoming a voice in Jackson's head added wryly), the man looked for all the world like Harper Avery had in the mid eighties. Longer hair, perhaps, and more gray. Jackson's eyes narrowed and he felt his jaw pop.

_Julian._

Looking at this man, Jackson did not see his family. He felt deeper connection to Joe Kepner and Richard Webber than to the man in front of him. A deeper connection to Mark Sloan even. But he found some surprise in the fact that his anger is still muted. He never actually planned on laying a hand on Julian, but it was still a shock to find he didn't actually need to hold himself back. Jackson just felt vaguely numb.

The woman in the hallway clapped her hands, breaking the moment as she none to subtly ushered April and Riley out of the entry way, "How about you and Mum go splash some water on your faces and then collect your things? And...perhaps I'll just put the kettle on."

April's eyes locked with Jackson briefly over her shoulder as the woman guided her away, the question clear in her eyes. She would stay, if he asked. If he needed her. He shook his head gently, and gestured for April to stay with Riley. Julian Avery was a problem of Jackson's that he felt he had to handle on his own.

When they were alone, Jackson crossed his arms and sneered.

The shadowy figure stepped into the light, "Hello, Jackie."

"It's Jackson. And I am not calling you Dad."

"That's...understandable. I go by Graham, but you can call me Julian."

Jackson's glare intensified.

His father looked slightly uncomfortable, and scratched the back of his head, "I, uh, sitting room is this way if you want. I know your probably tried from-"

"I don't want to sit with you," Jackson snapped, leaning his head back against the door behind him.

Julian chuckled uncomfortably and shrugged, keeping the distance between them. "Perhaps not. Fair enough. I'd just hoped we could talk."

"You abandoned me, why would I want to talk to you?"

Wincing, Julian sniffed and fidgeted with his hands. Long elegant fingers. Just like Jackson's own.

"She's very bright, you know. Your Riley. Very bright. Polite too. We liked having her here, circumstances aside. Beatrice, my uh- she has three daughters and her grandchildren come round quite often, but they're all much younger, much more energetic. Always running around the garden."

Jackson could not bring himself to respond. He felt tense, but surprisingly disconnected from the man in front of him.

So many years apart, and all it seemed his father was capable of was awkward small talk. It seemed woefully inadequate and irrelevant to the situation at hand. But then, if there was one thing his father was good at, so the story he'd heard from his mother and grandfather, it was inadequacy. Jackson didn't give two shits what this man thought of his daughter. Or about the people and children he deemed more worthy to spend time with than Jackson.

"I'm still not entirely sure I understand how she even found me..." Julian seemed a bit put out. "I thought my banking was secure. And now I'll have to have a chat with my financial planner."

"You can't be mad for that," Jackson growled. "It's not my fault she came."

_Or was it?_

Julian let out a rush of air, not quite a laugh as one hand nervously adjusting the rim of his glasses. "Fear not. After careful consideration, I have no plans to press charges."

"Oh, how big of you!"

Jackson tried not to dwell on the fact that he'd considered thoughts of contacting the authorities too. He knew when he was being condescended to.

Holding his hands out in placation, Julian shook his head and spoke breathlessly, "Quite the contrary. I never dared to dream that I would see you again."

The admission felt thick and weighty in the air, and Jackson lowered his gaze. It was hard to imagine this man _missing_ him.

"At any rate, I am glad Riley did whatever it was she did," Julian added pointedly. "And I hope her punishment isn't too harsh."

"How about I handle raising my own kids?"

The older man shrugged, "Well, if she is anything to go by, you're doing a good job."

Jackson could not bring himself to say thank you.

"You still sound like yourself, you know?" Julian continued, a faint smile forming between his pursed lips. "S's were tricky for you when you were small."

A memory rushed unbidden to Jackson's mind. He was about three and playing with blocks. His father sat on the floor opposite him, smiling and stacking the toys for Jackson to knock over. Julian had smiled the same way.

Shaking himself, Jackson tried to clear his mind. He'd never had many memories of his father. He was never sure if the memories he did have were real or imagined based on pictures and stories. He lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"What the hell do you want?" Jackson demanded.

Julian swallowed, "Did you read my letters?"

Jackson was incredulous, "Do you think I did?"

No need to admit that a part of him regretted that, if only because of Harper Avery's deathbed request.

"No," the older man sighed, shoulders sagging. "But I was hoping you would. I'm not good at these kinds of conversations..."

"What kind of conversation is this?"

His father faltered and frowned, "I'm not sure."

The room lapsed into silence, only the distant sounds of Beatrice clanging around in the kitchen, and quiet rumbles that could only be more tears from Riley audible in the small entry way. Jackson was fed up. He had no idea what Julian was playing at, but he wasn't about to let this drag on. The same thing he'd always told himself was still true. This man did not deserve an ounce of Jackson's time or energy.

And yet...

"What did your letters say?" Jackson's slipped from his lips quite unexpectedly, clearly catching not only himself, but his father off guard.

Julian's brows rose behind his glasses as he held Jackson's gaze. His forehead creased and his tongue worried the edge of his lower lip. Jackson felt his pulse rate increase. He felt like his stomach was in his throat and for no good reason. Because he had no reason to _care_ about the answer to his question.

None whatsoever. It mattered little to him.

"They said I will always love you," Julian replied shakily.

"Yeah, sure," Jackson huffed. "Well, I _hate_ you!"

It was too much to contemplate.

The older man winced, but continued haltingly, "And that I'm sorry. For leaving you. For not being in your life. I'm sorry. "

"That makes me feel _so_ much better."

"I know it doesn't," Julian ran his hand over his head in frustration. "I've always known that, but- I'm in therapy and I realize I have a lot of regrets. I reached out because I wanted to try and explain myself if I could, without hurting you any worse. To at least find some peace in it for myself. I tend to...disengage when I find things difficult and I thought that by sending the letters I could give you some sort of answer...What else do you want me to do? I never should have left you. It's inexcusable. It was a poor decision at the time, but I can't take it back."

Raising his voice for the first time, Jackson lunged forward in his father's direction, stopping himself short of getting in the older man's face. "A 'poor decision'? Understatement. Why did you leave in the first place? Why did you wait years to find me?"

Julian flinched.

"You see my father, he was-he didn't deal with disappointment well. There was just no pleasing him. My whole life, I just wanted him to be proud of me. I tried-I went to medical school, when I had no business becoming a bloody surgeon. I could never live up to his expectations and I just kept failing. I was not and could never be the person he wanted me to be. The one he wanted was dead, you see? Frozen too in his memory as a child who never disappointed him. That kind of family life was toxic-"

"I know _exactly_ what Grandpa was like," Jackson sneered. "I didn't run away from him."

"He didn't want me! I disappointed him. I couldn't face him anymore."

"But you've been more than will to live off of his money and your trust fund all these years? Can't stand to be around him, but hey...free money."

"I'm not saying it's right, but-"

"It's lazy."

"I can't disagree," Julian hung his head. "I am a lazy man. My father always said so."

"He asked for you. Before the end," Jackson hated to admit it but, it felt good to twist the knife. "Disappointed him one last time, I guess."

Julian gulped, "I thought maybe everyone would be better off without me, you especially and-"

"That's a lie!" Jackson bellowed, rage replacing detachment. Even if a part of him did believe that he and his mother had been better off, he would never buy it as a reason for leaving. "You didn't think of me at all!"

He was a father and had many times in his life experienced failure. He'd grown up beneath his grandfather's expectations too. And if there was one thing Jackson knew he would never ever abandon his wife and children. No matter what. Feeling inadequate was not a valid reason. There could _be no_ valid reasons.

"Maybe..." the reply was soft and sad. "It might just be a story I tell myself to make it seem less awful."

"To make yourself feel better?"

"Perhaps."

"You deserve to feel bad!"

"I do! I always have. You'll never know what it's been like for me all these years without-"

"It was so hard for you? What about me? What about Mom? She's the one who had to pick up the pieces after you ran out."

Julian's lips curled and his hands again returned to his glasses, "I am sure your mother made the most of the opportunity my absence provided."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Your mother..." the estranged father explained haltingly. "When I was young, I wanted to change the word. I wanted to use science to change the world. I follow her work you know...and the Foundation's. I'm much more suited to this quieter life, but your mother has accomplished much more than I dreamed possible. She _has_ changed the world."

His expression became almost wistful, "I remember the first time I met Catherine. How beautiful she was. And that smile? She was a force of nature. I imagine she still is..."

Jackson tilted his head in reluctant agreement One thing they could agree on.

Julian sighed, "I thought we would always be a hurricane together, but I was jealous of her. Of her successes. The ease at which she moved through the world. Then you were born and she was even more capable and unapologetic. All the while, I was figuring out I wasn't meant to be a surgeon at all. I was so insecure, it felt like her accomplishments hurt me. Part of me wanted to hurt her back. I didn't tell her how I felt. Couldn't tell her. I should have. And I should have listened to her in return. We lost our connection..."

Lowering his gaze to the floor, Jackson shook his head and recoiled from his father's words. He could not feel sympathy for his man. He would not. Neither he nor his mother deserved what Julian had done to them.

"That's not an excuse for leaving. It's not an excuse for never talking to me or visiting. Ever. You were never there for me!"

Julian's temper finally flared, and he spat back, "I was selfish, Jackson what else can I say? There is no answer I can give you that will explain it or make it right. I'm a selfish cowardly fuck up, okay? That's why I left. You're a better man than me. I've only known your daughter for a day and I think she's lovely. You've done something I never could."

By now their voices were loud enough that the small entryway seemed full of sound. As though the volume itself indicated the anger and resentment. A room full of regrets.

"And for the record, I did try to reach out. My father blocked me and I wasn't strong enough to try going through your mom. It was easier not to think of you when I was a world away. The longer we were apart the easier it was to be gone. Easier to leave you be. My mother sent me photos from time to time, but after she died...I followed your college sports record. I watch the Foundation press releases, birth announcements and the like.. Look at pictures of you; your family if they are published. I wrote you the letters. I know, I hurt you and I am sorry, but did try."

"Obviously you didn't try hard enough!" Jackson spat. "Fuck you."

This explanation incensed Jackson the most. Not so much because it was any less believable than the rest of Julian's excuses. He didn't doubt that early on Harper probably did prevent Julian from contact anymore than he doubted his grandmother Elizabeth had gone behind the old man's back to share pictures. He certainly didn't doubt that Julian Avery lacked the courage to contact Catherine. All of these things were probably true. And above all _easier_. And there was a part of him that understood.

About the easier path.

But Jackson also realized that somehow, in the long run, easy always seemed to lead back to the hard.

His father looked as though he wanted to reply, but another voice beat him to it.

"Jackson?"

April and Riley peered in from the adjoining hallway, eyes wide. It was clear from his wife's face that they'd heard at least some of the shouting. Riley's oversize sweater was gone and had a small bag slug over her shoulders. She still clung to her mother. Her eyes were puffy from tears. She didn't meet his gaze. He was still angry at her, but the rage was not as acute. She was still his daughter. He loved her.

"Come here Rifi," Jackson said, reaching out to her for the first time in a long time with open arms. He felt a rush of relief when she ran to his side and curled her body against his chest. Just like when she was small.

"Sorry, Dad," Riley whispered.

Squeezing her tightly, he kissed the top of her head and murmured, "Me too. But we're going to work on it, okay?"

Looking back up, Jackson found April by his side too, "Everything alright?"

"Not really," he admitted. "But no hitting."

"I can attest to that, my dear," Julian added as he held out his limbs to his daughter in law with and almost amiable grin. "No harm of that sort. Though any of the three of you are more than welcome to take a swing as you wish. Or Riley, if you'd still like to have that yell..."

Jackson didn't miss the small smile and chuckle that escaped Riley against his chest.

"I don't think so, Julian," she shook her head. "I just want to go home."

"Yes, that would be the preferable option," the old man agreed, looking at the teen with misty eyes. "But do make sure you are certain, as I fear you may not have another opportunity."

It was strange for Jackson to see this man's demeanor change so much. Around Riley he was not nervous or irritable. He was sweet and seemed sad. Oddly charming. And Jackson suddenly couldn't quite hate his father, even though he still wanted to.

"It's okay. I'm sorry for all of this mess. Thank you and Bea so much for letting me stay," Riley turned around in Jackson's grasp to face Julian carefully, still holding her father's hands tightly in front of her.

Julian shook his head. "Think nothing of it."

He glanced pointedly at Jackson.

"It was never your mess, so it's not your responsibility to clean up. I hope you can be free of it."

Jackson had to look away, but Riley nodded gravely. He felt April's arm slip around his shoulders and realized both women were looking at him expectantly. Waiting for him to decide what to do next. Suddenly, he felt tired, more than simple jetlag. Exhaustion seeped into his muscles, but somehow he also felt mind was racing, thoughts and feelings and left over anger jumbled together. He needed to sort them out. He wanted to talk to his mother. He wanted to play with his kids.

He wanted to go home.

"You guys ready?" Jackson asked shakily, holding Riley and April's hands for support. They both nodded agreement "I am too. Let's go."


End file.
